Sick For The Cure
by SisiDraig - 2
Summary: Vicar’s son, Vince Noir, is worried that his feelings for his best friend Howard Moon have become more than just friendship. How will he cope in a world where being gay isn’t an option?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Boosh - I know, I know, I was amazed too! Also the title (because, as some of you may have noticed by now, I am inept at making them up by myself) is the title of a song my the beautiful 80's hair metal band Cinderella!**

**Warnings, of which there are many: Set in the 70's. Howince. Homophobia. Religious condemning of Homosexuality. 70's 'treatment' of homosexuality. Based on more truth that open-minded individuals such as ourselves would ever like to think. Quotes from the Bible (which I guess I should point out, I also don't own). If anyone gets offended, though you shouldn't really, I'm VERY sorry!**

**Also, all attempts at cannon and linking in with the show disappeared within half an hour of writing. It's definitely, unintentionally an AU! **

**Authors Notes: I don't think I've ever been more scared to post a fic in my life. I'm not even sure if it really belongs on this site… This is probably one of the darkest things I've written. I just wish something nice and happy would pop into my head for once… *sighs***

**And so it begins…**

* * *

Vince looked at the brand new pen, inside his brand new pencil case next to his brand new bag, set down by his brand new school shoes and brand new school uniform. He sighed. He'd never been particularly popular at school, though he'd never been particularly unpopular either. He'd guessed a few times over the years that he would leap a few notches up the popularity ladder if he ditched Howard and started hanging around with Jonny and Billy but that was totally out of the question. Howard was his best friend and everyone else could go and eat soil as far as he was concerned.

He smiled. His memories of his time with Howard always made him smile. Suddenly, his legs were shaking so violently he had to sit down. He wasn't sure what was making his knees take on the consistency of jelly but something had changed recently. He couldn't pinpoint when the change had happened. Had there even been a revolutionary moment? Had he always known? It was difficult to tell now. Everything just seemed so foggy in his mind. He didn't understand what to do and the more he thought about it, the more his knees shook and his body shook, like he was having some kind of fit. His blood ran like ice and he felt almost ill with the pain that this feeling was forcing through his being. He'd feel as though he would explode if he didn't tell someone soon and then… it would go. He'd tell himself he was being stupid; just a stupid, stupid kid but around Howard, it got worse. His need to tell was greater, he felt less stupid and more delightfully light-headed and giddy.

He'd all but avoided his friend over the summer holidays, which Vince's father had encouraged. Vince knew his dad was wary of how close he and Howard were.

"Vince." he'd say, sitting himself on the stool in his son's room. "I'd like you to listen to tomorrow's sermon."

"Oh, Daaaaaaaaad" Vince would moan, sitting down on the bed, cross legged like a tiny child. "Do I have to? I'll hear it tomorrow anyway."

"Well, that's not the point. I'm aiming tomorrow's sermon at boys like you. I want to make sure that it's interesting."

Vince would sigh and then agree to listen because that's what good Christians did.

His dad would clear his throat and begin. "In the name of the Father and the Son and of the Holy Ghost…"

At this point Vince would switch off. He'd lie back in his numerous, fluffy and colourful pillows and watch his dad's lips moving. He'd smile and nod politely, pretending to be interested, pretending to care but Vince had never really been interested. He'd never really cared. He didn't understand all of this. His father and mother were so faithful and their faith brought them joy beyond measure but their faith had only ever brought Vince pain. His dad would suddenly become more expressive in his speech and Vince would tune back into the conversation.

"…mortal sins. Do you know what the mortal sins are, Vince?"

"No."

"Yes, you do. Think boy."

"Murder."

"Yes."

"Adultery."

"Good."

"I don't know any others."

"Think about Leviticus."

"Who?"

His dad would sigh. "Honestly Vince, do you pay _any _attention in my sermons?"

"Yes." Vince would lie. Usually, he just integrated himself with the choir and drew pictures of far off crazy worlds that he and Howard would invent together.

"Right then, consider Leviticus verse 18:22."

"Dad," Vince would forced a rather convincing yawn "I'm tired. What are you trying to get at?"

"Homosexuality, Vincent."

Of course he was. Wasn't that always what he was trying to get at in these weird little one on one chats he had with Vince?

"The abomination of sodomy; the devils love."

Vince would fake another yawn.

"But I thought all love was sacred." he'd say calmly, "Didn't you say that once? And God loves all his children equally, if he didn't love the gays why would he make them?"

"Don't hate the sinner, hate the sin and these are the people who fall to the devil's temptation. Homosexuality is an abomination in the eyes of the Lord."

"I think they're alright." Vince would say distantly, "Except for the prohibited standards of hygiene."

And then his dad would leave, muttering some kind of prayer for his wayward son.

.

"He's always banging on about it." Vince would moan to Howard the next day.

"Hey, maybe he thinks you're gay." Howard would laugh.

"Awww, get lost. I'm not gay. I like Monica Taylor."

"Mm. She doesn't like you though, does she?"

"She offered me sweets yesterday."

"Only after you begged her for them."

"S'not the point. All I'm saying is, me and Monica Taylor are gonna get married."

"Sure you are."

"So, I don't know why my dad would think I'm gay."

"Well, you do dress a bit, you know… camp."

"Oh Howard, you know _nothing _about fashion."

"I haven't seen a single other person in a tinsel covered boiler suit."

"That's coz no one else is fashionable either and will you stop calling it that. It's proper name is the glitter ball suit."

"Right."

"It's not perfected yet though but when I do. I'll look like a genius."

"You'll look like a tit at Christmas."

Vince would have to stifle a grin and, with a forced expression of outrage, say; "Honestly Howard, you'll see. One day, you'll find out that _I _am a fashionista. A pioneer of the latest fashion trends and you are going to be stuck in your weird Hawaiian flowery shorts and brown roll neck jumpers." He'd shudder. "You'll look like you were dressed by blind Chimpanzees."

"You'll look like you were dressed by Elton John on acid."

"Howard!" Vince would cry in mock outrage and then they'd laugh before falling quiet and picking anxiously at a hole in his jumper.

"You shouldn't let it bother you." Howard would say solemnly, "Your dad's just being stupid."

"Yeah." Vince would grin at his friend. "You're right."

But Vince wasn't 12 anymore and Monica Taylor was ancient history. He didn't get a jittery tummy because he picked up Louise Sanford's pencil. He didn't care that Claire Bowman told everyone at a sleepover that she had a crush on someone who's named rhymed with Prince, Star. He wasn't even that bothered that Cerys John had told him he was cute. He didn't notice how nice Rachael Nymph's arse looked in her skirt, though he was told repetitively by Leroy. What he did notice was Howard's smile and his beautiful brown eyes and youthful enthusiasm and that way he had of looking at Vince that made him feel like everything was roses.

"Vince. Vince! **Vincent!**"

Vince shook himself from his day dream and found he was back in his room in that hideous uniform. He turned to see his mother staring at him.

"Oh Vincent." She beamed, "You look _so _handsome." she added, pressing her sticky red lips to his cheek.

"Aww mum." he grimaced, rubbing the mark off with the back of his hand. "Get lost. I'm not six anymore."

"I don't care. You're still my baby. First day at sixth form. I'm so proud of you."

"I'm only going back to do art and hair design."

"I know but still…" she smiled. "I'm proud."

"You're ridiculous." he laughed.

The doorbell rang, there was a creak of the old front door and then a voice drifted up the steps.

"Oh, hello Sir, Father, Reverend Noir, Sir." Vince's heart skipped a beat. That had to be Howard. Only Howard could mess up a fairly routine greeting in such a spectacular fashion.

"Howard." was the cold tone of the Vicar response.

"Is Vince here?"

"Yes. He's should be down now."

"See you later mum." Vince said, grabbing his back and legging it down the stairs.

"Alright sweety." she called after him.

Vince pushed past his dad, nearly knocking him off balance.

"Bye dad" he said, as he grabbed Howard's arm and dragged him out the front door.

"You're excited."

"Yeah! Only have to talk about art and hair ever. How cool is that?"

"Hmm."

"What are you taking?"

"Umm, Jazz through the ages, historical literature specialising in stationary and the scientific study of globes."

"Wow!" scorned Vince, "That sounds like a riot."

"Well, it's not too late to swap courses Vince."

"No way!" laughed Vince. "I'd be so bored in your classes."

"Yeah but now we're not in the same classes anymore." Howard said, in an almost whine.

"I know but we do have the same frees. I'll meet you by the canteen door second, okay?"

"Yeah, alright."

The day was strange. The art lessons were difficult and even hair design lacked something. Vince missed Howard. Even the time they were together was too short. So, after school, he suggested they go to the park. This wasn't anything particularly unusual but Howard seemed to think it was. His face seemed to crinkle in confusion as they walked together.

"Howard, you alright?"

"Mmm."

"Mmm? What's 'mmm' mean?"

"Nothing, just 'mmm'."

Vince fell quiet and for the first time ever, the silence around them was uncomfortable.

"Why didn't you ever come out and play in the summer?" Howard asked suddenly.

"We're sixteen now Howard. We don't go out and play anymore. We're too old."

"Oh." he paused and then; "But you didn't want to go to the cinema's either, or bowling, or to the jazz night in town. Why not?"

"I just didn't want to!" Vince yelled, stopping sharply.

Howard stopped too and turned to look at his friend. "Alright, calm down."

"Don't! You don't understand. Nobody understands." Vince was screaming now. He was grateful the old memorial park was deserted."Understands what? Tell me. What's up Vince?"

"Nothing."

"I don't get it. I thought we were friends."

"We are. _Best _friends."

"So, why don't you want to spend time with me?"

"Because it confuses me."

"Confuses you? Vince, what are you talking about?" The taller boy asked, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. Vince shook him off, taking a very deliberate, very large step backwards.

"Please don't Howard. You're not helping."

He could feel the coldness overcoming him. The tears welling up inside him and the shaking began. His knees knocked, he knew he was going to spill his guts, whether it be metaphorically or literally. He felt weak and he dropped. His knees collided hard with the pavement, ripping the knees of his trousers. The gravel scraped at his hands. He could feel the very real tears burning the back of his eyeballs. He rubbed his nose with his palm, looking meek and childlike. Howard frowned in confusion. He'd never seen Vince like this. He was the sunshine kid. Rain could make Vince happy, dirt made him happy all the time and a peanut make him break into song but now… Now, Vince looked broken and Howard didn't understand. He'd been okay this morning or at least he'd seemed okay. Howard had only brought up his detachment over the summer to find out why, not because he was particularly angry and certainly not because he wanted to upset Vince. Howard took a deep breath and sat down by his friend.

"Vince," he said softly, reaching out to touch his arm and then, thinking better of it, he let his hand fall limply to his side. "Tell me what's up."

"I… I… Howard." Suddenly, the boy looked up and met Howard's eyes. His head tilted slightly to the left and he whispered. "Who do you fancy?"

"Oh. Is this about Cerys? Look, I know she fancies you. I'm don't care anymore, I've moved on."

"To who?"

"Well, no one yet." Howard coughed embarrassedly, "But Howard Moon doesn't give up the fight for the fairer sex that easily. I'll soon find a new sun for my sky, light of my world, cream for my strawberries…"

"But you're definitely looking for a girl?" Vince interrupted, and then mentally kicked himself for being so obvious.

"Of course." the taller boy said proudly and then looking at Vince he asked uncertainly, "Why? Aren't you?"

Vince looked at his lap, his fingers fiddling quickly, "I don't know." he answered honestly.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I… I…"

"Vince. You haven't done anything wrong." he assured him, rubbing his arm gently.

"So why do I feel so guilty?"

"Because you're being stupid." Howard chuckled, squeezing the boys bicep lightly. "It doesn't matter who you fancy or who you don't. You're still the same person. You're still my best friend."

"But what are my parents going to say?"

"You don't have to tell them. Not yet anyway. Just wait until you're ready."

Vince nodded a tear squeezing from his tear duct and taking a leisurely stroll down his face. Howard reached out and wiped it away with his thumb.

"So is this why you didn't want to hang out in the summer? You were afraid that if you told me I wouldn't want to be your friend anymore."

Vince nodded. That wasn't exactly right but it was all Howard needed to know that at the moment.

"Oh Vince." he half sighed and half laughed. "I'm always going to be your friend."

Vince nodded again and allowed himself to be gathered into a big, bear hug and pinned against Howard chest.

He breathed in deeply, relishing the moment, dreaming about what it would be like to always be held like this by Howard, imagining what it would be like to kiss him. To be needed by Howard as much as he needed him and then he felt the tears falling from his eyes. He shouldn't be thinking these things about his best friend. He was taking an innocent platonic hug and allowing his mind to turn it into something else. Something dirty and wrong. It was unfair to Howard and the tears really started to fall now.

"Vince." he heard Howard's voice, felt it vibrate through his chest. "Vince, come on. Don't cry. Please."

Vince cried harder. The pleading in Howard's voice had just made everything more real, more painful.

"Howard," he choked out between his stifled sobs. "I don't think we should be friends anymore." This was for the best he was sure of it. Howard didn't deserve to be kissed and groped by Vince's twisted daydreams.

"What?" cried the older boy. "Why?"

"Because, it's not good for us."

"Vince, please. I don't care if you're gay or straight just please, please don't stop being by friend."

"But what if I…" Vince stopped himself before he said something he would really, truly regret, because, so far, despite his uncontrolled sobbing, he hadn't regretted anything he'd told Howard.

"What if you… what?" Howard pressed.

Vince shook his head determinedly, his long dark hair flying wildly around his face.

"Come on." encouraged the older boy. "I don't like it when you hide things from me Vince. Tell me what you're thinking."

Vince shook his head again but this time it was with less conviction so Howard pressed on. More words of soothing, of encouragement, of reassurance and suddenly Vince blurted out;

"What if I try to kiss you?"

And Howard was stunned into silence.

After a second or two of excruciating quiet. Vince looked up, his blue eyes searching for something in Howard's expressionless face. He needed a sign. Something to tell him it would be okay. A silent promise, just between them. A promise that their friendship would be strong enough to get through any crush Vince may develop. But no reassurance came. They just looked at each other. Neither saying or doing anything until Howard finally squeaked;

"You're not going to though, are you? Because you don't fancy me."

Vince's heart broke a little. Howard wasn't ready to accept even the possibility of a kiss but at the same time there was a big shiny get-out clause so Vince took it.

"No." he forced a cheerful laugh and Howard's face visibly relaxed "Course not. Flipping heck Howard, as if I could fancy you."

"Yeah." Howard agreed quickly.

"I'm just saying, if we were at a party or something and I got really drunk and mistook you for someone who's actually good looking. Would you be able to wriggle free from my charm and beauty and limpet grip?"

"I would fight you off, sir." Howard smiled, poking his friend playfully in the ribs. "And point you in the direction of a more suitable young man."

"And he'd be cute, right?"

"The cutest." And then Howard blushed. Vince giggled and poked Howard in the tummy.

"That's good to know, small eyes." he grinned. Poking again and again.

"Are you engaging me in a tickle fight, sir?" Howard asked with mock incredulous and a raise of the eyebrow.

"So what if I am?" Vince said, tongue playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Then I will come at you like an octopus."

"Oh will you now?" Vince smiled, standing up suddenly.

"Mm." Howard nodded, having to pull on Vince's sleeve to get himself to his feet. He immediately noticed the holes at his friends knees but he didn't mention it. No need to worry Vince and anyway, he had a tickle fight to win. So, with all the grace of a constipated elephant he lunged at the smaller boy, who darted daintily out of his reach and started to run down the street.

Vince ran a little like a pixie. Always looking over his shoulder and giggling with glee as he saw Howard miles behind him. His legs seemed to flail about everywhere but he still looked somehow coordinated and he was fast. Howard, despite his superior stride length, found it impossible to catch the smaller boy. Not unless Vince wanted to be caught.

Howard didn't catch up with Vince until they reached the vicarage and by then both boys were too tired to engage in any fighting of the tickling variety.

"You wanna come in?" Vince asked, once he'd wrestled with the lock and forced open the heavy door.

"Yeah." Howard smiled.

"Cool. Dad's out visiting the sick in hospital this evening so he wont be home 'til late."

"Right." Howard said, kicking off his shoes by the door.

He wasn't sure why Vince had opted to tell him that but it wasn't worth pressing the issue. He knew Vince had problems with his dad. He knew that the religion came between them. It was the thing that everyone in the parish knew but nobody dared discuss. It was a well known fact that Vince Noir wasn't particularly religious, though Howard thought the rumours that Vince often fell asleep in the sermons was probably a lie. Though he couldn't really be sure, it was impossible to spot Vince in amongst all the other choir boys. Howard had tried to find him, it was the only entertainment he had when his mum dragged him there on a Sunday. Howard wasn't particularly religious either but then neither were his family. His mother went to church through unremitting fear that not going may make people gossip about her and so as not to offend Vince's mother, who was the chairwoman of the parish book club and cake sales committee and various other boring clubs that his mother insists on joining as part of her 'give back to the community plan'.

"Oh. Hello Howard."

He looked up to see Mrs Noir, holding a tray consisting of a large chocolate cake. She was smiling broadly.

"Mrs Noir." he nodded his head politely.

"I haven't seen much of you this summer. I thought you and Vincent weren't friends anymore."

"No." Howard said, his eyes flicking quickly to Vince who's face was bright red as he shuffled , "It was a matter of the heart." he said.

Vince felt his own heart swell and then break. Why did Howard have to put things so poetically? Couldn't he see Vince was desperately trying to get over him?

"Ah." she smiled knowingly, "Girl trouble. Say no more. It's just nice to see you've made up now."

Howard nodded.

"Would you like to stay for tea?" she enquired.

"Umm," he looked at Vince, who nodded eagerly. "I'd love to. Thank you very much Mrs Noir." he said. He knew it wouldn't be a problem. His mother liked to encourage his friendship with the Noir's son.

"Excellent. I'll ring your mother and tell her you're stopping here. We're having toad in the hole, is that okay with you?"

"Perfect." Howard said, with his politest smile. "Thank you."

"Suck up." Vince grinned at him after his mother was out of ear shot. "Why don't you just kiss her feet?"

Howard visibly shuddered at the thought and Vince laughed.

"Come on." he said, "I wanna show this new painting I've done. It's of Bryan Ferry."

--

"It looks like Terry Wogan." Howard said, sounding completely unimpressed.

"Oi. Shut up."

"I'm serious. It's like a Bollywood Wogan. A good Bollywood Wogan." he added on seeing the look of disappointment on his friend's face. "The best Bollywood Wogan I've ever seen."

Vince grinned widely then. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. Easily the best."

"I might tell everyone else it's Bollywood Wogan then."

"Good idea little man."

"But don't you go telling people the truth, okay? That would ruin _everything._"

"Right." smiled Howard, looking around at Vince's room. It was small, very small actually or maybe that was just because most of the space was being taken up by the giant walk in wardrobe. There was an Ikea chest of draws too, splattered with various colours in indistinctive, faded circles.

"I see our handiwork is still holding out." smiled Howard, fingering the plywood gently.

"Yeah. Course it is." Vince beamed, "D'you remember when we painted that? We were trying to fill those water balloons up with paint but we couldn't do it very well. And when we did mange to get them filled up, we couldn't tie them and if we did it all, we kept missing the chest of draws and hitting each other."

"Well, we were only seven. And only one of us missed the target on purpose the other one aimed directly at me."

Vince laughed a bit. "Yeah, we were covered in paint."

"Yeah and your mum made us have a bath together." Howard chuckled and then he realised what he'd said and the room fell silent. He looked at Vince who was redder a balloon full of red paint. He hoped it wouldn't always be like this; moments of awkwardness ruining a brilliant reminiscing session but Vince just said, speaking slowly as though he were picking his words _very _carefully;

"And you cried because I wouldn't let you play with my toy boat."

Howard chuckled a little nervously.

"Well you had the latest 'Battleship 5000'. I was jealous."

Vince nodded slowly. He looked like he was in real pain when he said the next bit;

"This is weird, isn't it? What I told you… it's even ruining our memories."

"It's not." Howard said, squeezing his friend's shoulder. "It's not ruining anything. I promise."

Vince nodded carefully but he still didn't look entirely convinced.

After that, they carried on like they always had and nothing else was said on the matter. There were a few awkward moments here and there when someone made a comment about how they spent so much time together asking if they were in love but nothing they couldn't laugh their way out of. It was a few months later when Howard was woken in the middle of the night by his telephone. Stupid new technology, he'd really been enjoying that dream. He listened but there was no creaking of floorboards to suggest his parents were going to answer it's wailing call. Sighing, he heaved himself out of bed and padded down the stairs.

"'Ello." he croaked, his brain foggy with exhaustion.

"How-Howard." The voice down the phone sobbed. "Howard."

"Vince, is that you?" he blinked, rubbing his eyes with the base of his palm to try and dislodge the last of his sleep. "Are you okay? Are you crying? What's happened?"

"I'm going to hell." he wailed.

"What?"

"My dad just came in and told me his sermon for tomorrow." Howard didn't need to hear anymore. He had had this conversation with Vince enough times to know what that meant.

"What phone are you using?"

"The box. Near the park. It's really dark. Howard, I'm scared."

"Okay. Don't move. I'll come and get you."

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**Sorry for excessively long chapter! It just wouldn't end…**

**Review Please? xx**


	2. Chapter 2

Howard pushed open the creaking gate to the park. It was quite light really under the full moon but it didn't stop Vince appearing as just a tiny, shaking shadow on a bench. He looked up when he heard the gate. Then, letting out a loud sob, he ran to Howard and threw his arms around his neck.

"I've done something terrible." he whispered against Howard's shoulder.

"What?"

"I… I…"

But the rest of his words were stolen by sobs. He just wept, burying himself into his friend's embrace. Howard half-carried Vince back to his house and allowed him to collapse on the beige sheets of his bed. He locked the door to his bedroom and turned to look at his friend.

Vince was pale and weak from crying. He was curled up in a ball on his side and he looked thoroughly depressed. Howard just wanted to hold him, rock him and tell him everything would be okay. But not yet, not until he understood why Vince felt like this. So Howard stayed silent. He just sat down on the bed and waited. He knew Vince would speak when he was ready, it was just a matter of _when_ he would be ready.

Half an hour later, Howard felt the bed shift a little. Thinking he'd fallen asleep, Howard looked down at Vince but the smaller boy's eyes were still wide open, staring and terrified.

"Vince." Howard began quietly, brushing Vince's hair from his face. "I really think you…"

"Likewise also the men," Vince cut in, almost robotic in tone. Howard shut up. He understood, Vince was ready.

"Leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust for one another, men with men "

Vince grabbed Howard's hand suddenly but continued to speak in the same monotone, not looking anywhere but straight ahead of him. Vince looked crazy and Howard felt scared.

"Men with men," Vince repeated, "committing what is shameful, and receiving in themselves the penalty of their error which was due."

Howard frowned but Vince hadn't finished.

"Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor homosexuals, nor sodomites, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners will inherit the kingdom of God."

"Vince. What are you talking about?" whispered Howard shakily.

"Hell is not a place but a pain worse than anything physical. It lasts forever. A feeling that burns you inside until you can't cope and your whole being is screaming to be released… and then the Devil laughs and it burns you more."

Vince's grip tightened on his hand.

"Dad says I'm going there." he laughed almost hysterically. "He says I'll go there because my clothes suggest I am homosexual and that suggestion is enough."

"Vince." Howard tried to sooth but Vince wasn't listening. He was somewhere far away,

"I told him it was just fashion but he said that God was no respecter of fashion. He said he was just warning me; just warning any demon within me. Warning him that he will be exorcised. And then…" Vince stopped. Howard looked down at him, his blue eyes had flicked sideways, fixed right on Howard and the older boy shuddered, this was terrifying.

"Look." Vince whispered, releasing his grip of Howard's hand and pulling back his sleeve to reveal raw red marks, the skin cut and blistering. Rope burn. Howard's eyes went wide.

"He tied me down to stop the demons from making me escape." Vince continued still staring, still emotionless, pulling back his other sleeve and pulling up his trouser legs to reveal the same marks on each of his limbs. "And then he started to chant, to pray. He shook me. Yelling and screaming. He spoke in Latin. Spiting and shouting."

Suddenly, Vince's resolve broke. His face twisted and he sat up slowly. Howard looked at him. He still looked weird but now he looked like he'd woken up from some kind of terrifying dream. Howard thought about reaching out but he didn't think it would help, so he sat stock still.

"I was so scared." Vince finished quietly, eyes dropping to the bed quilt, which he began to fiddle with. "I begged him to stop but he wouldn't. Said it was for my own good."

"Oh Vince." Howard said softly, cupping his friend's cheek in an action that seemed right and also utterly wrong for this moment in time. He dragged Vince's face up until their eyes met and asked bluntly;

"Do you still fancy men?"

Vince shook his head.

"Are you sure?"

Vince nodded, but his strained expression told Howard he was lying so he continued;

"And does fancying men feel natural to you?"

Vince looked straight into Howard's eyes. How could he lie to him? So Vince nodded.

"Then how can it be wrong?" Howard asked. "If it feels right and it looks right; then it's probably right."

Vince stared at Howard's lips as he spoke. They looked so soft. So kissable. But 'no' he _had_ to stop himself. No one but himself thought that these feeling were normal. Well Howard didn't seem to find it too awful but everyone else treating even the thought as sick and twisted, devil's work and the talk of the mentally ill. He looked into Howard's eyes again. They were so close to each other, mere inches between them. Howard's hand still resting on his cheek, his thumb caressing the protruding cheekbone. It would be so, so easy to just lean forward and kiss him. Then the thoughts of his dad tying him down to the bedposts exploded through his skull. He remembered his dad, wearing his Vicar's garments, stood high above him. He was reading passages and begging the demons to leave his son. He felt the strong Vicar's hands grip and squeeze his skull, tighter like a vice condemning the demons, driving them out. Vince's hands flew to his head. He screamed.

"Vince." Howard gasped, pulling his friend close to his chest. "Vince. Are you okay?"

Vince opened his eyes, panting heavily. It was okay. He wasn't home. This wasn't his bedroom. His dad wasn't here. He was just pressed against the brown of Howard's shirt, safe. He could feels his friend's heart hammering against his ear.

"Howard." he whispered. "What am I supposed to do?"

--

Vince had fallen asleep against Howard's chest, so the taller boy had laid his friend out on the bed. He'd pulled his shoes off and placed them at the end of the bed, Vince would kill him if anything happened to them, before laying the sheets over him carefully. He sighed, Vince looked so small. How could anyone hurt him? How could anyone try to 'fix' him? Why could't other people see how perfect he was? Howard shook himself free of his resentment on Vince's behalf, before he got too wound up. He pulled a blanket from his wardrobe and tip-toed downstairs. He slept on the sofa that night and in the morning Howard's parents were fobbed off with lies of a sleepover and Vince's parents were phoned.

Reverend Noir arrived and Howard couldn't help feel that he was feigning the relief of finding his 'missing' son. Vince padded down the stairs silently. He visibly paled when he saw his Dad. He seemed to shrink too, like he'd suddenly become four years old again. Howard didn't like the affect the Vicar had on his friend and the Vicar didn't like the affect Howard had on his son. They glowered at each other a little.

"Come on Vincent." Reverend Noir said calmly, "We can't be late for the sermon."

As they left, Howard was sure he heard Vince say; "Will God still accept me at his house?"

"Of course." his father promised, "As long as you don't indulge in any ungodly fantasies."

* * *

**Darkness, angst, exorcism. I don't know where my brain went for this story :(  
I'm still not sure I should me posting this.**

**Please review? xx**


	3. Chapter 3

After that, Howard didn't see Vince for a very long time. His parents and pulled him out of school and sent him to a boarding school across town. Howard had tried to keep in touch but every possible means of communication had been severed. Howard sometimes caught a glimpse of his old friend, when he came home from school at the end of term but only if he happened to see him walking from the taxi to the vicarage or vice versa. Vince never ventured outside the safety of his own room during there times at home. From the limited glimpses Howard had of the boy, he'd changed a lot. Not just in appearance, though his short hair and black clothes didn't help, but he always looked so miserable, like he was on the brink of mental despair and could break into tears at any moment. Howard just wanted to run to him, to hold him, to tell him things would be okay, that he didn't need his dad or his dad's faith or anything else; that he didn't need to change, that he was perfect the way he was but he didn't think it would make a difference. The Vince he had once known was lost to this new, terrifying, emotionless being.

Howard kept going to school. He kept slogging his way through the life, though it was hard now. School became more difficult, more threatening. He'd run home to avoid the bullies. He'd keep his head down and worked as hard as he could. Some mornings, he'd walk all the way to the vicarage before he'd remember that Vince was long gone. Some times, on these mornings, he'd feel like crying.

Eventually, the summer holidays arrived. Vince was home at the vicarage for eight glorious, sun-filled weeks. There was no way he would stay cooped up inside the whole time; but he did. Howard watched the old building carefully but Vince never left. Not once. After a few weeks of spying on the front of the house Howard took a short walk to the lane by Old Mrs Robinson's fence so he could view the Noir's garden back garden.

It looked just like it always had; beautiful flowers dancing in the cool summer's breeze, butterflies and honey bees darting about in their endless search for pollen. The colours blending together like a kaleidoscope of heavenly beauty. He allowed his eyes to pick out the white trellis that was under Vince's window, the one Vince used to climb down to escape his homework, when he was little. Howard smiled fondly at the memories that trellis held. There was a purple flower creeping up it now and that in itself was proof that Vince hadn't escaped recently. As, in his bid to surreptitious, he'd kick all the flower heads off the plants. Above the trellis, where Vince's glittery curtains should have been, were thick black curtains that were drawn despite the blistering sunshine. The window was open though, suggesting that Vince was indeed in the room.

Howard peered into the garden again and around at the surrounding gardens. No one was outside. He could _easily _hop this wall and shimmy up that trellis before anyone noticed but would Vince want him there? Howard found his stomach twist in anticipation. Now that he could actually find a way to see Vince, to really talk to him rather than making do with fleeting glimpses of a boy he hardly knew, Howard was excited. His heart swelled a little and it suddenly really hit him how much he missed Vince. How much he needed and craved the younger man.

Well, that settled it. He had to try. He hopped the wall easily and crept silently to the old stone wall of the house. He studied the trellis carefully. Now he was close, it looked thin and ancient and certainly not strong enough to take his 6ft of weight. He'd forgotten that Vince used to climb this when he was fourteen but Howard decided that as he'd made it this far he might as well have a go. He'd just climb quickly, give the trellis less time to collapse on him. He edged his toe in the highest diamond he dared and hoisted himself up. The wood seemed to creak beneath his weight but it didn't snap. Not yet. He climbed quickly, not looking down and not listening to the definite sound of splintering wood that seemed to get louder with every step he took. At last, he reached the ledge and fell through the window. With an ear-splitting crash, Howard found himself tumbling across a desk knocking various pens and pencils, a lamp, some paints (with the lids still on, thankfully) and all manner of other things off a desk. Then he collided with the body that had been working at the desk and together they crashed to the floor. Howard opened his eyes to find himself led on Vince, who looked shocked and embarrassed.

"Howard." he grumbled, "What the heck are you doing?"

"Ummm," Now that he was here, Howard didn't have a clue what he was doing. In his mind it had been all very heroic, all very white knight, damsel in distress, rescue, national acclaim and a kiss from the damsel. Though Howard didn't like to dwell too long on that last thought.

"Well?" Vince encouraged and Howard was reminded he was supposed to be giving an answer.

"Umm, yes." he started, "I'm practicing for a trellis climbing competition and this is the only one in the neighbourhood so I thought I'd better practice here."

Vince cocked an eyebrow. "How's that coming along?" he asked with a bit of a smirk. "Not great really."

"Hmm. So what are you really doing?" Vince asked.

"I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"Because… I miss you." he said honestly. "It's not the same without you around."

Vince nodded. His expression was torn.

"Are you happy now, Vince?"

Vince nodded but it wasn't convincing.

"Why don't you ever come outside?"

"I paint." he answered simply.

"Paint what?"

"The way I see things in my head. The good and the bad." he held up a painting of a incredible red phoenix. It was rising up from flames leaving molten ashes far behind.

"He's getting a new start like me." Vince explained. There were hundreds of paintings around the room. They were plastered all over the walls. Mice with black deceitful eyes. Badgers who was suffering despite their happy surroundings. Animal after animal, each with a horror story locked in their twisted expression. Each with a dark secret, which tortured their minds. Howard shuddered. He didn't like this world Vince saw. Then he spotted the corner of a painting half sticking out from behind the desk. Howard must have dislodged when he fell through the window. It was covered in dust and clearly hidden.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's what I painted the day I moved schools" he said distantly. The last time Vince and Howard had seen each other. This was what Vince had painted. The curiosity overwhelmed Howard.

"Can I look?" he asked.

Vince nodded slowly. Howard felt as though he was the only one who would be given permission to view this. He tugged gently at the corner of the paper and pulled the painting towards him. Slowly more and more of the image was revealed until he could see the whole thing.

It was in split in half. On one side was a painting of a person who looked a lot like Howard, stood with a beautiful, raven haired bride on his arm. They were stood at an alter smiling and happy. There were people at the wedding happy people, congratulating them and shaking Howard's hand. The colours were bright and beautiful. On the other side of the paper. The colours were dark. The black was broken only by the vicious slashes of red. This side had been done out of anger. In the centre of the picture was what was unmistakably Vince, or how he used to look, alone and frightened in a sea of black and nothing. At the top left hand corner was another person, though this one was much harder to make out. Picture Vince seemed to be trying to reach out to this other figure but red slashes stopped it; condemned it.

Howard swallowed;

"Who's that?" he pointed at the figure.

"You." Vince answered truthfully. Howard nodded, he'd thought as much.

"And who's this?" Howard pointed at the bride.

"That's how I was meant to be born." Vince said, his eyes filling with tears. Howard nodded again. He didn't need anymore explanation than that. He understood.

Vince looked meek and downtrodden and suddenly Howard noticed, his nose had changed shape. His eyes must have lingered on it for a while because Vince said;

"I got in a fight."

"Oh." Then; "What about?"

"Just… a painting." he said but Howard knew there was more to it.

"Why wont you talk to me anymore?" Howard demanded, "I tried to get in touch but you just kept cutting me off."

Vince shrugged.

"We used to tell me everything and now you wont even tell why you got your nose broken."

He shrugged again.

"I don't even know if you were please to see me. You've hardly said two words since I fell through your window."

Vince looked at Howard and his eyes started to well up.

"I'm not used to talking at my new school." he whispered "and when I come home, I just lock myself up here and paint. I don't want to see people anymore. I don't want them to see me. They all hate me. I hate myself."

"But…"

"I don't fit in at that school." Vince carried on, totally ignoring Howard, "They all just ignore me now. They all think I'm queer. I tried to tell 'em I'm not a fag but, but they wont listen. So I stopped talking. What's the point in speaking if no ones going to listen to what you say?"

"I'd listen."

"You." Vince scoffed, "You were the one who tried to tell me that those feelings were okay. You virtually encouraged me but it's not okay." He looked to his painting, his eyes focusing on Vince on the left, the Vince stranded and needing help. "Look at him." he spat. "He needs you so much."

"I need you too." Howard said quietly and it wasn't until the words had left his lips that he realised it was true, both of himself and of the picture.

Vince turned to look at him. "But it's an abomination." he whispered, fingering the red paint between himself and Howard. "Here." he pointed to the bride. "She's happy."

"But she's not you." Howard cried, ripping the painting from Vince's hand and throwing it to the bed. "That's not real. That's not what really happens. That's just inside your head." he said, throwing Vince's curtain's wide open. Vince recoiled as the light hit him. He hadn't seen natural sunlight for 6 weeks.

"Look at the flowers." Howard said, "They're real. Look at the birds, they're real too. The grass, the sky, the sun. It's all real." Howard turned to see Vince, back pressed against the wall, shielding his eyes in an attempt to protect himself from the poisonous sun.

"And this" Howard said, crouching down next to him and grabbing his face. "This. Is definitely real."

And with the that he crashed their mouths together. This is what happened in fairy tales. One kiss and the princess wakes up and that's what Vince had to do. Wake up. Wake from all this depression, all this twisted logic, all this internal slowly, he felt Vince melt slightly, hands coming to rest at the back of Howard's neck and lips moving softly against his own. Then a small, insistent tongue lapped at Howard's lips begging entry. And who was Howard to deny anything Vince asked. They were both lost now. Caught up in the perfection of the moment. And then;

"Get off me." Vince cried, pushing Howard away and scuttling to the opposite side of the room.

"But I thought you."

"I do… did but not anymore! It's not right."

Vince shook violently. He looked like he was going to throw up but he controlled himself enough to say. "I think you should go Howard."

"But…"

"Please. Just go."

Howard wasn't going to leave it there though. They'd kissed and it had meant something.

"Vince." He said. "You kissed me back."

Vince shook his head desperately, clamping his hands over his ears.

"It's okay." Howard continued, "It's not wrong."

"Howard please. Please. Stop talking." Vince looked desperate now. He was shaking more than before, his throat constricting as he fought off the urge to vomit. "Just go. I'll meet you in the park tomorrow okay. As friends."

Howard gave in eventually and snuck out the window, down the trellis and home but all the time, Vince's desperate pleas still haunting him.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far!! Especially Brie! love you all!!**

**xx**

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It was a nice day, sunny but not too hot with a breeze that wasn't too cold. There were a few of the younger kids from school riding their bikes around, trying to do jumps thinking they were the next Evel Kinevel. On the grass, there were a few families, settling down with picnic baskets and blankets to sit on. They all looked so peaceful, so different to the anxiousness going on inside Howard's own head. Though he'd never let Vince know, last night's events had freaked him out a little. He felt like it hadn't really been him, like he'd watched another boy grab his best friend's face and kiss him with all the confidence of a seasoned professional.

He hadn't even thought of Vince like that until that moment. Oh, who was he kidding? The first night, after Vince had told him he was gay, Howard had thought about little else. He'd gone to bed early and stared at the ceiling just replaying the conversation over and over in his head. He'd begun to question his own sexuality. He'd considered the posters of famous jazz musicians on his walls and wondered if there was more than just a healthy love of jazz behind his obsession with Howling Jimmy Jefferson? He'd considered his favourite picture of him and Vince with their arms around each other's shoulders, grinning foolishly at the camera and he'd wondered if he could ever fall for his best friend.

At the time, he'd put those feelings down to shock; the shock of being told that the person he cared most about was gay. He'd pushed any doubts about himself to the back of his mind and hadn't thought about it again. But all the questions had come flooding back to him when Vince was snatched from him and taken to a boarding school on the other side of town. Suddenly, the burning hole in his chest suggested that maybe his feelings for Vince had always edged just above the platonic line.

And now? Well, now he was an emotional mess. He just wanted to see Vince again, see the reassurance and the fear in his eyes, which showed that he too was going through this internal trauma. But for Vince, of course, it was worse. He'd been tormenting himself with this for years and it had changed him. The old Vince would never have been this late. Sure, he'd have turned up maybe quarter of an hour late, mumbling some thin excuse about frogs setting up a wall to stop him from leaving his house or a porcupine that stole his shoes or how he spent all morning inventing a frying pan and then discovered it had already been invented. Howard had always taken mental notes of the crazy things he'd come out with, wondering if perhaps one day they could be the beginnings of a novel. But Vince was really late now and although it was blindingly obvious to Howard that Vince wasn't coming, he still couldn't bring himself to go home… just in case.

It was getting dark by the time he heard his name being called, he knew it wasn't Vince's voice but he turned around full of hope anyway.

"Oh," he sighed, "Hey mum. Have you seen Vince?"

"No but he did ring the house a while ago."

"Oh?"

"He told me to tell you he couldn't come to the park today. He sounded quite distressed actually."

"Really?" Howard asked, jumping to his feet. "What was wrong?"

"I don't know. He just sounded a bit shaken up, like he'd just been scared out of his wits. He's gone a bit strange since he went to that boarding school. Carol, you know Carol."

"No." Howard didn't know or indeed care about Carol. All he could think about was Vince sounding distressed and how he had to go find him to see it was because of something he did but his mother continued regardless.

"Yes you do. Carol, she lives near Rosemary."

Howard must have looked blank as she continued to clarify, "You know Janine. Her mother."

Howard nodded although he wasn't really listening. He didn't care about Janine's mother's goldfish's next-door neighbour's hamster's owner's opinions on his best friend or anyone else's opinions on him for that matter.

"Well anyway," his mother continued, "Carol was saying she was at the Noir's house the other day and Vince didn't even come out of his bedroom to say 'hello'. Reckons he's above us now, private education and all that."

"It's not that."

"Pardon?"

"It's not that. He's got it into his head that everyone hates him, that he's evil. He doesn't talk to anyone anymore."

"Like I said, strange. Why do you hang out with him Howard?"

"Because… because he's my best friend. He'll talk to me. I'm going to go around and see if he's okay."

"But your tea is ready."

"I'm not hungry."

"Growing boy like you? You're always hungry."

"I'll microwave it when I get home."

He didn't stick around to hear his mum's response. He just walked quickly in the direction of the vicarage.

--

He knocked on the large wooden door nervously. He hadn't been stood here for over a year and now he felt unwelcome. He felt almost guilty, as though he were trying to lead Vince astray, though of course he could tell that this was what Vince wanted. Although, if that were true, why hadn't he come to the park? No, he couldn't think like that. He had to stay positive.

The door creaked open to reveal Mrs Noir stood in an apron and oven mitts. She was always cooking something or another.

"Oh." she seemed surprised and, Howard supposed, had every right to be, "Howard, I haven't seen you for a while."

Howard smiled his best smile and asked if Vince was in.

"He's up in his room." she said warily, wiping her brow with a ridiculously oversized mitt, "though I doubt you'll get a word out of him. He keeps that door locked all the time. I knew he should never have gone to that boarding school. He's become really isolated now."

Howard just nodded. _Isolated_ wasn't really the word but what Vince had actually become was too terrifying to name.

It took him a while to locate Vince's door and not only because he hadn't been in this part of the house for a long time. It had lost all the bright swirls and dazzling stars that Vince had painted on it a few years ago. The glittery, emboldened 'Vince's Room' plaque had been unscrewed and the only clue that it had ever existed was a mark of slightly darker wood and four tiny holes for the screws.

Howard fingered the darker wood gently. The door, like Vince, was missing something. He knocked on the door tentatively. He wasn't exactly surprised by the silence that followed.

"Vince." he called softly, "It's me, Howard."

He pressed his ear to the door and could just about make out some rustling and the sound of soft footsteps approaching the door.

"I can't open the door." Vince's whispered, he sounded shaky.

"Why?" Howard whispered back.

"Because it's wrong Howard."

"What is?"

"Everything. What we did." Then Howard heard the unmistakable sound of retching.

"Vince!" he shouted, slamming his fist against the wood. "Vince let me in."

"I can't." his voice came out choked and strangled and the sound of retching came again and again and again.

"Vince stop it." Howard shouted, the panic and fear in his own voice causing it to break sharply and falter like a sob. The retching stopped. Howard pressed his ear to the door and he heard Vince again.

"Are you crying Howard?"

"Inside I am." he said. It sounded weird; too poetic, too metaphorical but deeply dark and poetic was the language Vince seemed to talk now. Howard wanted to lighten the mood by saying something like 'tears on my pancreas' but it seemed somehow inappropriate.

"Why?" Vince asked. The question seemed so innocent.

"Because I want to see you."

"And you can't reach the thing you want?" Vince asked.

"Yes."

"There's a barrier?"

"Exactly."

"A physical barrier. There's always a barrier though. It's there. It's stopping me." And then, with hardly a moments pause; "I'm bleeding Howard."

"What?"

"I cut myself. I had to punish myself."

"For what?"

"For what we did."

"Where have you cut yourself?"

"My wrists."

Howard had had enough. He stood up, dropped his shoulder and ran at the door. Well, it worked in films. It didn't, however, work now. Instead, he bounced off the door, his shoulder cracking loudly. He cried out in pain but he didn't care. If Vince really was slitting his wrists, a bit of pain in his shoulder was bearable. He dragged himself to his feet and ran at the door again. The pain screamed in his shoulder and speared up and down his arm as he collided with the splintering wood. He staggered backwards, bit his lip to hold back the yells and steadied himself to run at the door again.

Vince's head snapped up. There was a loud bang and his door shook violently. He ignored it. He ignored the yelp of pain that followed it. He shut it out and focused on his wrist, the deep red liquid dripping slowly down his arm, in beautiful, dreamlike contrast with the pale of his skin. The bleeding giving him relief. The pain in his arm seeping the pain from his soul. The door rattled and a large crack appeared though the central panel. Vince hauled himself to his hands and knees. His bleeding wrist leaving droplets of blood on the floor, smeared across his latest paintings and the faded blue carpet. He crawled to the door and unlocked it. From outside, Howard heard the faint click of the opening lock and opened the door carefully.

The first thing that hit him was the smell of vomit but he didn't think about that, instead, he focused on Vince. The boy was huddled in a ball, still staring manically at his wrist. Howard gasped as his eyes were drawn to the bloodstained arm. The all too pale, all too thin wrist bleeding weakly. Howard knelt by his friend. His shoulder was searing in agony but he ignored the pain, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around Vince's bloody wrist. He couldn't fail to notice the amount of scars accumulating there. He shuddered as he felt how cold Vince's skin was against his own. He secured the handkerchief tightly and raised Vince's hand above his head. He didn't know what that was supposed to do but he'd seen it on gritty hospital dramas you had to get the wound above the heart.

Vince just allowed this to happen. He was like a lifeless rag doll. Howard sighed.

"How long have you been doing this?" he asked, rubbing his thumb over Vince's other wrist, he felt the juts and bumps of self-inflicted scars. Vince snatched his arms back, his eyes wide with fear.

"It's to punish myself. It's wrong Howard."

"Vince." Howard started, placing his hand to Vince's cheek. Suddenly, the smaller boy jerked away and vomited. It happened so quickly. Howard didn't know what to do.

"Are you okay?" he asked, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder and wincing when Vince threw up again. He was shaking tears rolling down his cheeks. He vomited again. His body went into spasm and he retched. He was on his side now, curled into a ball. His eyes were streaming. His skin so pale it was grey. He threw up again and again. Uncontrollable spasms. The smell was overwhelming but the sight was worse, Vince weak, helpless and shaking. It was making Howard's own stomach clench and heave. But he blocked it out. He blocked everything out and reached out again to touch his shoulder. He just wanted to help. To do… something.

"Don't touch me." Vince choked out. "Please." Tears streamed down his face. "Don't you see? It's you who's doing this to me."

Howard stepped away; horrified. How could this be his fault? How could Vince blame him for this? Whatever this was.

Howard could feel tears pushing at his own eyes. He was scared. Terrified that Vince was going to die right there in front of him curled on the floor; deathly still, lying in a pool of his own vomit with blood oozing through an old handkerchief tied around his wrist. His eyes were open and unblinking, just staring at something no one else could see. Howard panicked, he called for Vince's mum, not daring to look away or even to move.

He heard Mrs Noir, running up the stairs. She burst into the bedroom and gasped in absolute horror at the sight ahead of her. Her eyes watered up but she didn't let the tears fall. Howard wondered who exactly she was being brave for because Vince was quite clearly lost to the world now, caught up in something totally in his head.

"Vincent." she said, trying to keep the fear from her voice as she knelt by her son trying to avoid the mess. "Vince, sweetheart. Can you hear me?"

To Howard's surprise, Vince nodded, just a little, just enough.

"Good boy." she said. Then remembering Howard she added, "I think it's that chicken he ate for lunch. I thought it seemed a bit undercooked."

Howard's face dropped in disbelief. Food poisoning? How naïve did she think he was?

"Mrs Noir." he said, trying to keep himself steady and polite, whilst inside he felt like a raging lunatic. "With the greatest of respect, _that_ is not food poisoning."

"It is. Isn't it darling?" she looked down at Vince, brushing some of his hair from his sweaty face. The boy nodded again, no sound, no expression, just the shallow nod of a head.

"Mrs Noir." Howard pressed. He was furious now but he was determined not to show it. His fists were so clenched tightly he was leaving bruises in his palms but apart from that, he seemed completely calm, a little too calm, "He's clearly very ill."

"I know that." she said, not taking her eyes off her frozen son. "But we're getting that fixed, aren't we sweetheart?"

The distant nod came again.

"But you're clearly damaging the process Howard. I don't think you should comeback here again."

Howard wanted to scream with frustration. Leave? He couldn't leave. He had to stay here and help. He seemed to be the only who thought Vince's strange behaviour wasn't okay. Why could no one else see that this was a problem? Vince was ill, really, ill. He needed to see a professional, someone to help him through all of this and bring back the real Vince; the Vince Howard knew and loved.

"Vince. Please." he was begging his friend now, "Tell her you need help." He didn't respond. "Vince. Come on. Please. I want you back. I want my best friend back." Suddenly, Vince's whole body spasmed and he retched again.

"Oh sweetheart." his mum said, a lone tear finally falling, showing she wasn't completely heartless. She stroked his hair again and wiped away the sheen of cold sweat from his forehead.

"Go." she said sharply to Howard. "Before you make it any worse."

Howard opened his mouth to speak. He wanted to yell and scream. He wanted to jump up and down and smash things. He wanted to act crazy because then people might notice. But he didn't. He just left, walked away from all this corruption. He didn't want to have anything to do with it anymore but he still couldn't give up on Vince.

--

"I think you should leave it well alone Howard."

"But you didn't see him mum. He was so weak. He just needed someone to help him."

"Well, his parents can help him. You said his mum said he was under treatment for whatever's wrong with him. Maybe he's at a stage where he doesn't like visitors or something."

"But mum…"

"Howard." she warned, "Let the Noir's deal with it. Please. Don't try and get involved anymore."

Howard thought about what his mum said. He thought long and hard but he couldn't leave it alone. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the image of Vince, curled up in a ball, lost, alone, icy cold and deathly still. It was as though it was tattooed to his eyelids. Fate was never going to let him forget that moment. He tried at first to just knock on the front door of the vicarage and ask to see Vince. Unsurprisingly, Vince's parents had told Howard he wasn't really up for having visitors. So, he went around the back and looked at the trellis. He could climb that again but when he looked at the window above it, he saw thick black bars where the glass should have been. He really hoped they were to keep him out rather than to keep Vince in. The window behind the bars though was open. Maybe he could climb up and just talk to Vince.

Fuelled partly by desperation and partly by lunacy, he found himself hopping the low garden wall again. He ran across the grass and climbed the trellis, quicker than anyone could have ever expected.

"Vince." he hissed though the bars. "Vince. Come on. I know you're in there." He could hear some shuffling, a stifled sob but the curtains didn't open.

"Please." Howard begged. "I just want to know you're alright."

No sound came this time, not even the soft rustling of fabrics; just silence.

"Vince." he tried again, "Vince, please don't shut me out. I care about you."

Then, he heard Vince retch and he winced sharply. Maybe Vince was right, maybe it _was_ Howard that was making him sick.

"I'm so sorry Vince." he whispered, determined not to let the tears that were falling down his face, show in his voice. "I shouldn't have come."

With that, he ran away and he knew, with a bitter twist of the gut and a violent stab through the heart, he could never go back, should never go back. It wasn't fair on him and it certainly wasn't fair on Vince. He'd have to trust that Reverend and Mrs Noir really were sorting it out because it was obvious now that the last thing Vince wanted was Howard.


	5. Chapter 5

**This next chapter is c.1995 - I did look up all the little references and stuff but don't hunt me down if they're wrong.**

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**Twenty Years Later**

Howard looked around at his newly purchased flat. Finally, a place to call his own rather than spending one night here and there at various dodgy motels he'd been staying in for the last couple of weeks. No, every little bit of this flat belonged to him (and the Royal Bank of Scotland). The bland walls were his. The peeling wall paper was his. The smell of damp and black water stains in the ceiling were all his. He dropped his final box onto the old threadbare carpet and tried to ignore the fag burns and the bald patches beneath his feet. This wasn't exactly paradise. It wasn't half of what he'd hoped his first real home would be like but it would do. This was the only flat in the Brixton area that he could afford and he'd been told by everyone in journalism that this was the place to be if he wanted a shot at writing for up and coming magazine 'Jazz Monthly'. He'd just have to endure the obvious faults the studio flat had until he was earning £2.50 a word, or something equally outrageous for his jazz rants, and could but a better one.

As soon as he'd found a place for his stuff and shoved the empty boxes in and around the bin, he went out. He found the nearest coffee house, where the coffee was served in tiny coffee glasses and the chocolate was fair trade only. The whole place was dark mahogany, decorated with deep reds and blacks and even before Howard stepped through the door, he thought better of it and went to a cheaper looking coffee shop down the road. This cafe sold coffee in chipped mugs had tacky, white, school-canteen walls with paintings that looked like they'd been purchased in Poundland. It was smoky too. A man was puffing away happily on a cigar on a nearby table as he puzzled through the crossword in a copy of The Evening Standard. Howard couldn't help smile when he saw the paper. He'd be writing for them by next week. It wasn't jazz monthly but it was something.

The music flooding through the tinny speakers was something Howard recognised, something vaguely Caribbean and summery. He couldn't for the life of him remember the song's name, though it made him smile.

He liked London already. He liked the hustle and bustle, the way no one was afraid to stand out and the way everyone tried to ignore others. Everyone was so caught up in their own lives, they didn't have time to worry about other people's. It wasn't like his old village at all, where everyone was so wrapped up in each other's lives, they forgot to live there own. The queue at the counter was huge and he managed to end up behind two gossipy old woman, with lots of curly hair tinted pink. They had to be the only gossipy people he'd seen since he arrived in the capital a fortnight ago.

"Is this Choice FM?" The one nattered to the other, "I tell you what, this station is rubbish."

"It's only been going for a few months."

"Longer than that surely."

"A year at the most."

"Well, this DJ's useless."

"Mm. He's the good looking one though, isn't he? The one they send out to meet people."

"I don't know." The first woman answered. They reminded Howard so much of his mother and the gossipy church woman of the old village, who used to get together just to gossip about people they didn't really know anything about.

"So." The DJ's voice broke the end of the song, "That was Bob Marley with Buffalo Solider."

Of course it was, Howard's brain uselessly informed him. He'd almost forgotten he'd been trying to work it out.

"Now, don't forget to enter out competition. We're giving away tickets to be at the Bob Dylan gig at the newly refurbished Brixton Academy this coming Saturday. All you've got to do is answer this question; What was the name of Bob Dylan's character in the 'Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid'? And that film came out in 1973, so start rooting through old video's and cassette's and stuff. Dylan wrote the theme music for that as well, didn't he? I think he did. I think that was the album that brought us Knocking on Heaven's Door." The DJ chuckled a bit, a giddy infectious, almost familiar, chuckle. Howard listened carefully for any more clues. He'd always like Bob Dylan and he'd always loved a good quiz question, it might be worth entering.

"And now I know there's a ton of researchers in the next room, who are going to go out of their way to find out if that's true." The DJ laughed again and Howard wished he'd just get on with the question again, "Anyway, if you can tell me the name of Bob Dylan's character in the film 'Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid', phone on 08700 702 969 or, if you're into that newfangled texting-thing, then text the answer to 61236. Or, the producer's telling me, you can write a letter, if you're from the 1940's, the address is; 'Competition _dash_ Vince Noir Show, Choice FM, 30 Leicester Square, London, WCH2H 7LA'"

Howard jolted, his heart stopped and his breath caught in his throat. Did he hear that right? He strained his ears to listen again.

"And don't forget to put 'Competition _dash_ Vince Noir Show.' Otherwise I'll never get it. So that address again…"

As Vince repeated the address, Howard snatched the pen from the fingers of the crossword man and scribbled it down desperately on the back of his hand.

"Thanks." he said, throwing the pen back on to the table. The man grumbled something but Howard didn't hear it. He couldn't believe this. Surely it couldn't be _the_ Vince Noir; _his_ Vince Noir. He'd probably get there and find some weirdo, who was nothing like Vince but it had to be worth a try.

He hadn't seen his old friend for _so_ many years but that hadn't stopped him waking up with nightmares of the last time he saw him; visions of Vince struggling, craving help but always just out of reach. Fingertips would brush together but Howard could never save him. Never.

"Oi Love." Howard snapped out of his daydream and was greeted by the annoyed face the woman behind the till. "What d'you want?"

"Oh, ummm, coffee… to go." he added, he couldn't waste time sat in a coffee house, he had to find Vince.

He'd tried to flag down a taxi, then he'd attempted a bus but eventually had been forced to just ask for directions and walk the four or so miles to the studio. The people of London weren't exactly the most accommodating he'd ever met. Suddenly, the fact they were wrapped up in their own existence didn't seem so appealing. Most didn't even have time to help point a desperate man in the right direction. Eventually, after much second guessing and more than a little luck, Howard found himself outside a tall building. The building had an entirely glass front wall, to make it look cool and trendy and it looked like King Kong had taken some giant green and purple marker pens and scrawled the words 'Choice FM' scruffily across the front. That was probably supposed to be cool too. He sighed. Now what? He was outside the building but he could hardly stroll in and ask to speak to Vince Noir. Would he even recognise Vince after all this time? Would Vince even remember who he was? So, he resorted to the Howard Moon secret tactic… he stalked out the building.

Howard had gotten his hopes every time the building's door opened and by the time he saw two men both of whom were about the right age to be Vince, he was a nervous wreck. From across the car park, neither of these men looked even remotely like his old friend. The one man, the taller one, was wearing a suit and seemed to be trying to act important whilst the other was wearing jeans and a polo shirt and seemed to be totally relaxed. Despite their contrasting appearances, Howard couldn't help feel they seemed to be equals and Howard had a sudden crazy impulse that these two men would be able to lead him to Vince. He crept quickly closer, trying to be as discreet. Well, as discreet as a 6 foot plus man can be in an empty, radio station car park.

"You at the festival tomorrow 'en?" asked the man in the suit. He had totally the wrong accent to be Vince.

"Yeah." grinned the smaller man. "Producers got me in, said as the only moderately attractive member of the DJ team I had to get down their and meet the public."

Howard studied this man for a long time. His hair was short, he was clean shaven and smart looking, if a little casual in his relaxed clothes. But his grin… his cheeky, mega-watt grin was altogether familiar. Howard couldn't stop his heart jumping a little as he entertained the prospect that this could be Vince… maybe.

"You're kidding?" The suited man said, in genuine disbelief.

"Nope. I am Choice FM's answer to Brad Pitt."

"No, Vince. You are a doorknob." Howard's breath caught in his throat. His name was Vince. It had to be him, didn't it? He quickened his walking so he was even closer to the two men.

"A moderately attractive doorknob." The man named Vince corrected.

"Oh yeah! Coz the streets are just lined with girls scrambling to get at you."

The younger man laughed. "Ah well." he shrugged, "I don't need hordes of girls. I've got a very beautiful woman waiting for me at home."

Howard's heart sank a bit. A woman waiting for him? He didn't know how to feel about that. Should he be questioning this man's likelihood of actually being Vince Noir, his childhood friend? Should he be angry because Reverend Noir had got his way? But the one thing he felt he really shouldn't be feeling was the emotion that seemed to be eating away at him most; jealousy.

"Oh yeah. How long is that charade going to last?"

Charade? Was this relationship a scam to please his father? To please the world?

"What charade?" Vince asked.

"Well… I mean she's clearly too good for you." And Howard's dreams were dashed again. He wasn't sure how much more of this emotional rollercoaster he could take.

"I know but 'shhhhhhh'. She doesn't seemed to have noticed that yet."

The older man turned to what had to be Vince and laughed. Then his eyes caught glimpse of Howard creeping none too stealthily up behind them.

"Oi." he shouted. "What the hell d'you think you're doing?"

"I, erm. Ummm, I er… ummm."

"Spit it out."

"Errrrr..."

At that moment the smaller man, who Howard was convinced by now had to be Vince, began to peer intently at Howard's face with giant, glassy, blue eyes. He looked like he was trying really hard to dig up some long forgotten memory of as the suited man said; "Well?"

Vince cried; "Howard! Howard Moon?"

"Ummm, yeah." smiled the older man, relieved beyond belief that his friend recognised him at all.

"Well, well." Vince shook his head in astonishment, "I can't believe… all these years and then… here you are. How are you?"

He held out his hand to Howard. Howard took it and they shook like two men who'd completed a successful business deal. There was something about the shake that made Howard feel uncomfortable and there was something about this new Vince in general that made him feel like there was some deep, dark secret yet to be all this time of thinking, Vince had been babbling on and on, just like he always used to. Howard quickly tuned his ears into Vince's frequency just in time to hear,

"…I'm at a festival tomorrow. You should come. Wait here, I'll get you a ticket."


	6. Chapter 6

Howard had been fighting with himself all morning over whether or not he should go to the festival. He'd sat on his sofa staring at the ticket in his hands. It had the words Choice FM scrawled across it and a bit lower down, VIP. He flipped it over and browsed the small print; backstage pass, admission into artists' village. He knew there'd be trendy kids from all over London, probably even the UK, who would _kill _for this ticket but not him. It wasn't his thing. He put the pass back on the table and went to the bathroom. He spent far longer than would ever be necessary picking an outfit, just in case he did decide to pop along to the festival for an hour or two. Not that he was definitely going, he was still deciding. In fact, he was _still_ deciding whether to go as he left the house. He still hadn't made up his mind when he got in the taxi and gave the orders to go to Clapham Common. And he still wasn't definitely going as he showed his pass and walked through the entrance gate. Maybe he could just see what the bands were like and then leave again.

The weather wasn't great but it wasn't awful either. The grey clouds threatened rain but the optimistic teens, who were thronging in their thousands to the festival, seemed confident the poor weather would hold off. As Howard strolled through the crowds, feeling entirely out of place, he spotted two stages and a tent. Howard's ears were immediately assaulted by loud, indecipherable noise as a local university band started on the second stage. Howard frowned and peered through the melee of black-clad, music fans. He didn't have a clue where Vince would be. He sighed. He was a fool to even be here. There was no way he would find Vince in the middle of all this mess.

He strolled over to a burger van and stood in the long queue. He needed a coffee or at least he needed something to occupy his time. He didn't plan to stick around long but something in the back of his mind told him he'd be here until he found Vince or was physically dragged from the premises for looking like a pervert. That's how he felt, he was wearing a long, sensible coat, which wasn't so bad; _other people were wearing coats_, he reasoned. But he also had a hat on, to protect him from the imminent rain, and dark glasses so that, should he see anyone from an important magazine, they wouldn't recognise him but every time he caught sight of himself in some reflective object, he couldn't help feel he looked like a sex-pest. He glanced up now to see a warped reflection of himself in a panel of silver on the burger van and he heard someone sniggering nearby. He had no idea what they were laughing about but he suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. He ripped his hat and sunglasses off and stuffed them in his pocket. He could still hear sniggering though, so he began to shut out every bit of idle chatting and giggling from the people who probably weren't even half his age.

He'd managed to block out most of the ongoing noise that surrounded him but one girl seemed to manage to infiltrate his sensory lock down. Her voice was high-pitched and grating like a teacher's nails down the chalkboard when he was back at school. Howard could feel his body clenching in repulsion and he was beginning to crave something a lot stronger that a coffee.

"Blank Canvas? They're crap!" The chalkboard voice screeched.

"Green Day are okay though." Said a quieter voice.

"What that punk band? Nah. No one likes them, they just fluked one decent album. All these bands are rubbish! I don't know why I'm even here." Her cackle crumbled Howard's noise barricade to dust but Howard couldn't help think he had something in common with the girl. He looked up to see if he could spot the pair of voices. He quickly found them. They were stood not far away, near a large, covered sign, fidgeting anxiously… waiting. The taller one was wearing the most ridiculous, clomping army boots and a obscene slogan emblazoned t-shirt; _she had to be the chalkboard voice_, thought Howard.

"I know why you're here." The smaller of the two girls giggled.

"Well, yeah." the obnoxious girl agreed. "Because I won the competition."

"By accident. Did you even want to enter this competition?"

"No. I was a bit eager with the phone call and rang the wrong show. I was trying to speak to Vince Noir."

"I don't know how you can fancy a voice."

"Mmm." The bigger girl giggled distantly. "I liked it when he used to be on air late at night. It was like I was going to sleep and he was just next to me, talking just to me." she paused for a second and then squealed _like a pig, _Howard thought, "I can't believe we're going to meet him soon."

"What if he's really ugly?"

"I'll close my eyes."

The smaller girl cocked her eyebrow as Howard's heart skipped a beat. These girls were going to meet Vince. He'd have to follow them to make sure he was around when Vince appeared. He glanced at the unmoving queue; this was going to take forever. He dug his hands deep in his coat pockets and groaned under his breath about the time but he always kept one beady eye on the girls.

It had been a good ten minutes and Howard still hadn't moved. He was thoroughly fed-up by now and he was _freezing_. He had no idea how all these cool, young gig-goers were walking around in such skimpy outfits. The two competition winners were still under the covered sign. They looked bored too, fidgeting impatiently as they discussed what colour eyes and hair the mysterious Vince Noir might have. The first band had just finished their last song and now there was a ten-minute lag before the next band came on, which meant no music and more of that infuriating buzzing, when thousands of people are talking at once.

Suddenly, the sign the girls were stood under had its cover removed revealing the large purple 'CHOICE FM' logo. Large speakers from some nearby, undisclosed position screamed out;

"Choice FM 107 _point_ 1. 96 _point_ 9. Choice FM. The Vince Noir Show."

A small crowd began to gather around to find out what was happening. The two girls Howard had been watching earlier screamed and leapt up and down with excitement. The jingle faded away and Vince's voice flooded the speakers. Howard looked around frantically for the owner of the voice and was annoyed at himself for acting just like every other attention seeking idiot within a hundred yard radius.

"Hey! You're listening to the Vince Noir Show on Choice FM, coming to you straight from the Get Loaded In The Park on Clapham Common. I would tell you to come along but the tickets are completely sold out. The only way to get involved now is to stay exactly where you are and to stay tuned in to Choice FM, London's best local radio station. In a few minutes we're going to be listening to the main stage where Maggots and Fleas are warming up for their killer set but for now lets have a chat with some of the people walking around. Hey girls. Now you're Bryony and Sarah, yes? You won the tickets from Sadie John's Breakfast Show to be here."

Howard's eyes flicked to the two screaming girls from earlier. The one who had been obnoxious and loud suddenly found herself totally stuck for words. She just murmured nonsense into the microphone that was being held out to her. Howard trailed his eyes along the microphone, up the skinny, exposed arm, and to the shoulder of a bright green t-shirt. His eyes followed up the man's neck and to his pointed chin and chiselled face. Vince. Howard smiled to himself as Vince brought the microphone back to his own mouth and said, "There you are guys, literally speechless." as the girl blurted 'I love you' and blushed furiously.

Vince chuckled a little and, after telling her he loved her too, passed over to the main stage and turned his microphone off. He held out his hand to the girls and made with all the niceties. Howard strained his ears to hear what was being said but the gathering crowd were too loud with their useless mutters of; 'Is that him? The one off the radio? I didn't think he'd look like that.'

Suddenly, Vince looked up and caught sight of Howard stood in the queue. He half waved and finished talking to the girls.

"Hey." he said when he got close. "I've been looking out for you but I sorta guessed you hadn't bothered to come."

"Are you joking? I love, err…" he strained his eyes to read the poster over Vince's shoulder, "'Fleet Street'."

"What? The punk band?" Vince asked in surprise. "I can introduce you to them if you like. I've met them a few times."

"Erm, no. It's okay. Never meet your heroes and all that." Howard chuckled lightly and Vince just gave him a knowing smile.

"What you waiting in this queue for?"

"Erm, coffee."

"They've got that at the media hut in the artist's' village. Come back and have a cup with me. I've got half an hour off now."

Howard followed Vince back to the hut and sat down at a small desk. There was paper strewn all over it, research of all the bands, highlighted names and times, people to be interviewed and complimented. He moved a few pieces of paper carefully. It was all pretty much the same. There were endless pictures of each and every artist, with their names and their instruments scribbled underneath in marker pen. Vince had probably been learning them so he didn't get them wrong in the interviews later. He looked up to see Vince pouring some boiling water into two polystyrene cups. His tongue was sticking out at the corner of his mouth as he concentrated hard on not spilling any of the liquid. Howard smiled. For the shortest of moments, he was back in the village and Vince was pouring cola into two luminous plastic cups.

He felt nervous, when Vince returned with two steaming coffees. What if the conversation was stilted and awkward? Howard didn't think he could bear it.

"Sorry bout the quality of coffee." Vince said with an apologetic smile, "But it's not any better at the burger vans."

"No. It's fine." smiled Howard, taking it and warming his hands around the flimsy white cup.

"So." Vince said, sitting down opposite Howard, "What've you been up to?"

"Ummm. Nothing special." Howard sighed, blowing the steam from his coffee and taking a sip of the pale, watery drink.

"Job?"

"Ummm. Not a good one. I went to university and then-"

"You went to uni?" Vince interrupted. Howard nodded, embarrassed by the tone of admiration in his old friend's voice. "That's amazing! You've gotta be one of the first ever from our school!"

"I don't know." Howard shrugged.

"What did you do there?"

"History Of Jazz Stationary."

"Boring then." grinned Vince, his cheeky smile taking Howard back to the school days, when Vince used to call him boring because he didn't hero worship Monty Python.

"Not at all, sir." Howard smiled back but then he sighed because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"So, what did you do after uni?" With all these question, Howard couldn't help feel that Vince was interviewing him like any other person at this festival. This might have been talking but it certainly wasn't a conversation.

"Went back home. I tried to start a local newspaper but not enough happens it that village to make anything of it. One week, the most interesting bit of news was that Old Mrs Robinson bought a goldfish."

"Mrs Robinson?" Vince asked suddenly, his voice changing somehow. He sounded more excited, more interested.

"Yeah. Do you remember her?"

"How could I forget? She was a miserable cow." And suddenly it was a conversation. "I'm pretty sure she was the devil. Remember when I tried to get you to play football and you kicked the ball over her garden. You broke a few roses in her flowerbed or something. I thought she was going to skin us alive. She came chasing after you with her belt." Vince laughed out loud, suddenly became very serious and said; "And I swear she killed Thumper."

"Oh yeah, your bloody rabbit."

Vince grinned. "Are you cursing in front of a vicar's son, Mr Moon?"

"Oh sorry."

"Oh get lost." laughed Vince. "As if I care. As if I've ever cared."

"Oh." Howard laughed uneasily, taking a purposeful sip of his coffee to give him time to think of something to say.

"So," Vince smiled, continuing now with easy rapport, "how is the rabbit-murdering, belt-wielding, fun-killing, old bat anyway?"

"Ummm, she died." Howard answered.

"Oh." Vince said solemnly and then he snorted and collapsed into fits of laughter. "Woops." he chuckled and Howard laughed too because Vince's laugh was still infectious even after all these years.

"I'm surprised you didn't hear about it actually. It was the talk of the village for weeks."

Suddenly, Vince was quiet, "Yeah, I don't have much contact with anyone from the village." And just as suddenly, he was bouncy and happy again, asking, "Was the new goldfish the only news story you covered?"

"Yeah." Howard joked, though if he was honest, that wasn't too far from the truth.

"Something else must have happened though." Vince pressed.

"To be honest with you, most people were more interested in what had happened to Vince Noir."

Vince looked at Howard, his face the picture of calm but Howard saw the flash of anxiety in those blue eyes. Maybe that was the problem with having such big, clear, blue eyes. They gave away your innermost feelings without permission.

"What were they interested in?" he asked in a voice that suggested a casual interest.

"Just what happened. Why you moved schools. Why you suddenly became so reclusive. Why you disappeared."

"Teenage angst." Vince forced a chuckle and then muttered under his breath, "That village was always full of nosy buggers."

Howard nodded his agreement. "You were the stuff of school yard legend by the time I left that place. Kids were always telling me that there was a crazy man living in the vicarage attic."

Vince forced an awkward smile. "What did you tell them?"

"That it was a half man, half bat, who came out at night and stole the sweets from children who weren't well behaved."

"Nice to know I'm encouraging good behaviour." Vince muttered with a small smile.

"Mm." Howard sipped his coffee again. "Most people thought you were dead, even I was beginning to wonder." he paused for a second, taking another sip of coffee as he tried to ignore the forced quality of Vince's smile. He didn't want to upset Vince but he really wanted to know, "Why didn't you come back after your last term in boarding school?"

"Umm. When I finished, erm, boarding school, they said I shouldn't go back to the village."

"They?"

"The, erm, people there."

"Teachers?"

"Yeah. Them." Vince said hurriedly. "I left anyway. Came down here. I'd been working in some really rubbish jobs until I met Katharine."

"Katharine?"

"My girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Howard questioned. He couldn't help himself. "I thought you were, you know… ga-"

"No!" Vince interrupted quickly. "I'm not. Wasn't. Never. That was a phase. A stupid, sick, disgusting phase. I could never." Vince shuddered and went a little pale. He looked a little nauseous but he forced an even larger, even more forced smile at Howard. "I've gotta go. I'm interviewing a band in a minute."

"Oh. Okay." Howard said. Though they'd only been chatting ten minutes and he knew Vince had said he had a break now. He couldn't help feeling that if he didn't do something now, he'd never see Vince again. So, in a moment of sheer desperation to not lose his old friend, he asked, "D'you fancy going to the pub later?"

"Umm. I guess." said Vince, though he didn't look convinced. "There's a King's Head on the corner just down the road from here. I'll meet you there at…" he looked at the clock on the hut wall, "half nine."

Howard agreed. Then he found himself being hauled to his feet by the smaller man.

"Okay. Great." Vince forced another smiled, as he steered Howard towards the door of the hut and Howard could help notice that Vince's hands on his shoulders were shaking furiously and deathly white.

"Are you okay?" Howard asked as he was shoved unceremoniously out of the door.

"I'm fine… Bye." Vince said and slammed the door in his face.

Vince slumped against the door and let out a long, shuddering sigh. He looked up to see one of the radio station's runners looking at him in complete confusion.

"You need some aspirin or something Vince?" the girl asked politely."No thanks." he smiled.

"Whiskey." she offered laughed a little and declined the offer. He slumped down in the chair and put his head in his hands. What had just happened? He hadn't felt like that for years and years. What was wrong with him? This wasn't supposed to happen anymore. He was supposed to be over this.

Howard looked at the closed door and at the cold coffee in his cup. He didn't have a clue what had happened. They were having a lovely chat, just like old friends, and then Vince had flipped and become strange. He'd acted like a child, who was trying really hard not to throw a tantrum. It was like he was holding back some pent up frustration; maybe a secret or a lie. Howard sighed and made a mental note not to bring up being gay again. However, he still couldn't help feel there was more to Vince's life than he was letting on.

* * *

**Quick update because… OMG *sobs* I'm losing internet on my laptop for an indeterminate period of time *sobs again* Hopefully, it will only be a couple of days but I literally have no idea. I still have internet on my family's computer so I can still read fics but no updates for this until my internet comes back! Sorry!**

**Please Review? xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**My internet's been back for 15 minutes now and the first thing i'm going to do is upload! =] Also, can you let me know if there appears to be big chunks of text missing. Everytime I push 'save' some of it disapears. I think it's all there now though! Flaming internet! Argh!**

* * *

It took Howard ages to find the King's Head. It was lucky he'd set out so much earlier than necessary. He still didn't know his way around at all. London was so big and it all looked the same to him. The taxi driver had tried to help him remember the street but Howard could tell he was getting fed up, so eventually, he'd just got out and taken his chances walking. He knew he wasn't far away… at least he hoped he wasn't far away. When Howard saw the battered sign of the old corner pub, he was hit with two conflicting emotions. Pride, that he'd found the pub all by himself and anxiousness, because he wasn't even sure Vince would turn up. He hadn't looked overly enthusiastic about the idea back at the hut and he'd done his best to get rid of Howard. Oh well, Howard decided, even if Vince wasn't here, a pub would be the best place to drown his sorrows.

He needn't have worried. As soon as he stepped over the threshold he spotted Vince. He sat at a table with two pints and his face broke into a massive grin of relief, when he saw Howard. Howard couldn't help feel Vince looked better, he wasn't shaking and pale anymore.

"Hey." Vince beamed as Howard slid into his seat.

"Evening." he smiled back, "This mine?" he indicated the nearest pint and took a sip when Vince said that is was."I needed that." Howard smiled. Vince nodded. "So, how did the rest of the festival go?"

"Yeah. It was good." Vince said. "Interviewed a few people, you know, usual stuff."

"Good."

"Yeah."

Then the silence hit. Loud and awkward. They both took simultaneous sips of their beers and the glasses hit the table at the same time but that silence didn't leave. They were both racking their brains for something to say but all either of them could think about was the weird ending to the earlier meeting.

"It's nice here." Howard tried eventually.

"Mm." Vince nodded. "I come here quite a bit with Kath."

The silence returned but Howard decided to press on with the conversation; "That's your girlfriend?"

Vince nodded and despite himself and all his better judgement Howard felt his stomach clench a little."What's she like then?"

Vince began to talk about her. She liked strawberries and the colour blue. She worked as a producer at the radio station and had been the one to give Vince a job. She liked reading and culture but could also challenge Vince at Super Mario Kart on the Super Nintendo. She seemed perfect for Vince and with every word the smaller man spoke, Howard became just a little less fond of Kath. "What about you?" Vince asked eventually. "You seeing anyone?"

"No." Howard said, "Haven't really seen anyone since…" _I fell in love with you twenty years ago,_ something in the back of his mind screamed. And, as Howard looked at Vince, his expression open and interested, his eyes so bright and unforgettable, his grin so boyish and cheeky, he realised it was true but he couldn't say that. So instead he finished; "since a girl from uni. She broke my heart." That was true enough. There _had_ been a girl in university, about the only person in his existence who'd ever shown even the slightest bit of interested in him, and she _had_ dumped him, because she was sick of the fact Howard had never really made an effort with her, but his heart had been far from broken. Not in the way it broke whenever he thought about how he'd abandoned Vince all those years ago. Vince began to ask about her and Howard answered every question with ease. He didn't mind telling Vince anything. He knew everything would be safe with him. Even after all those years of separation he still trusted his old friend.

--

They started to meet up more often. The conversation was becoming easier. They were slipping back to the way they used to be. It was just like riding a bike. Private jokes started leaping back to the surface and phrases like 'hey, do you remember that time when…' were uttered every other minute. They'd laugh and joke for hours in the pub and then, undoubtedly, Howard would say something about Vince's boarding school or about his dad and Vince would suddenly be in a rush to leave. Howard would sigh afterwards annoyed with himself for being so stupid but it wasn't his fault. The curiosity kept getting the better of him. He couldn't help himself. He just kept blurting out the unanswered questions and there were still so many to blurt.

--

Vince was sat in the armchair in his living room, twiddling with the remote idly in his hands. It was the last episode of that new show 'Friends', which Kath, along with the rest of the world, seemed obsessed with but Vince wasn't really interested. He was thinking about Howard but wasn't he always recently? Ever since he'd met up with him, his old friend had been a screensaver for his brain. If he wasn't thinking about something else, he was sure as hell thinking about laughed loudly and Vince jumped, dropping the remote which clattered noisily to the floor.

"You okay?"

"Huh? What? Yeah. I'm fine." Vince gabbled, picking up the remote and throwing it gently to her.

"What are you giving me this for?"

"Didn't you say you wanted it?" he asked distractedly.

"No." she frowned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Riiight." she said, returning her attention to the programme and laughing again. Vince tried to watch it. He really, honestly tried. Usually, he quite liked the programme but today it was just annoying him and it didn't help that Kath had decided to commentate on every little thing that was happening.

"Oh no." she cried. "Ross tell her. Tell her you love her."

Vince groaned silently and tried to concentrate on something else as Kath giggled, "Ooo. Chandler's told Rachel. She's going to have to go after him. Go after him!"

Vince managed to occupy his mind by watching a pigeon, who was on the building opposite. He wasn't doing anything particularly interesting he was just going about his life's business, cooing and waddling as pigeons do. Vince thought about how brilliant it must be to be a pigeon. No boundaries, no rules, just you and the ability to fly where you want when you want. He knew where he'd be flying now if he could, to Howard's.

He wanted a bit of bloke time down the pub but as much as he enjoyed spending time with Howard, it was also waking up a hideous feeling in the very pit of his stomach. Every time he saw Howard now, he had to fight the ever-growing urge to hurl. He wanted to meet up with Howard all the time but he felt like his body was rejecting it. Every smile, every wink, every inside joke, bringing him and Howard closer but at the same time, somehow, pushing them further apart. He sighed. He was sure pigeons didn't have these sorts of problems.

Just then, Kath started ranting at the TV again.

"No. No. You don't like her! Oh Ross what are you doing? You're with the wrong girl. You're in love with Rachel."

Vince looked at Kath as the credits ran down the screen. She sighed.

"Don't you just hate it when two people who are in love just don't get to be together?"

Vince nodded, still slightly lost in his pigeon daydream and then he said; "They'll get there in the end though. Last ever episode probably because the writers will want to drag out the 'will they, won't they' scenario for as long as physically possible."

"I know." she sighed, getting up and sitting herself on Vince's lap. She curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "It's just sad."

"Mm." Vince agreed, rubbing her back gently for a moment before; "Right, well, I'm gonna go to bed."

"What? We haven't even had tea."

"I know but I'm tired and…" There was no 'and' so he just trailed off with another thing about being tired.

"Okay." she said, sitting up and looking at Vince, her blue eyes full of concern. "Are you sure you're alright? You've been acting really weirdly recently. It's like you're not really here. You seem a bit… distracted."

"It's just work." Vince lied. "There's loads to do at the moment. You know they're having a bit of a reshuffle of the DJ's. It's hectic."

"Hmmm." Kath frowned, running her fingers through Vince's short hair. She didn't look even half-way convinced but Vince, ignoring her obvious scepticism, pushed her off his lap gently and went to bed.

--

"Kath reckons I'm acting weirdly."

"You seem fine to me."

"Yeah but she's said it a few times now and she does know me best."

"Hmm." Howard failed to disguise his frown as he sipped his beer.

"What?"

"Well, does she really?"

"Who else is going to know me the way she does?"

Howard shrugged but looked straight at Vince, his eyes screamed _I know you. I know you better than she does_.

"What?" Vince said. "You!?"

Howard shrugged again, burying his nose deep in his pint.

"You've got to be kidding!" Vince seemed outraged. "You waltz back into my life after over twenty years and you think you know me better than she does. You don't. You don't know anything about me."

"Alright, calm down." urged Howard, hyperaware of Vince's raised voice and the other pup-goers who were peering over now with sordid interest.

"I love her." hissed Vince. Howard's stomach knotted like long-forgotten string in the back of an old cupboard but he said;

"I never said you didn't, Vince. I know you love her. I can see it in your eyes when you talk about her."

"Can you?" Vince asked, hating the surprised tone in his voice.

"Yes. But I really thought there'd be place in that heart of yours for a friend like me."

"What?" Vince blanched, his stomach churning furiously. He was going to be sick. He could feel the bile rising in his throat.

"Platonically." Howard clarified, but the red flush of his cheeks gave Vince reason to suspect Howard's feeling might not be entirely platonic. The stomach churning increased. The bile forced it's way up into his throat and he ran to the toilets quickly.

Howard found him hunched over in the end cubical.

"You okay?" he asked from a safe distance.

"Yeah." Vince chuckled feebly. "Probably drank too much."

"Yeah." Howard agreed, though they both knew Vince had had one pint and nothing else. Howard had a horrible feeling that this was strongly linked to Vince's 'food poisoning' back when they were teenagers.


	8. Chapter 8

The next time they met up, Howard had mentioned that he was writing a review of these new machines called DVD players for The Standard.

"They won't last." he told Vince casually after the smaller man had begged to see it. "Video's are much better. I promise you, this DVD thing will last a few months at the most."

"Still." Vince grinned, waiting patiently as Howard opened the front door to his tiny flat, "I can't believe you've got one. These things are like gold dust at the moment. I didn't even think they sold them properly yet."

"They don't. It's like a prototype thing." explained Howard, opening the door and letting Vince in. He pointed Vince towards a large silver box, set up in front of his tiny TV. On top of the DVD player was a small plastic wallet with a CD inside.

"What's on this?" Vince asked, waving the disk around in Howard's direction, whilst keeping his full concentration on the DVD player as he studied every bit intently.

"It's a promotional disk because nothing's come out on DVD yet. You're holding one of the first DVD's ever to be made."

Vince laughed in a way that suggested that was the coolest thing he'd ever heard. "Really? Can we put it on?"

"Do we have to?" groaned Howard. "It's the most boring thing in the world."

"So." shrugged Vince. "Turn the lights off. We'll make it moody and dark like a cinema."

"You're mad." laughed Howard, but he did it anyway. He kicked his shoes off and settled himself on the sofa. Vince put the disk in the player and grinned in delight as someone called Dr James Nickel started to talk to them about the advantages of DVD over wasn't exactly flushed with furniture in his studio apartment, which meant Vince had to squeeze onto the same tiny sofa. Their hips touched and thighs pressed tightly together and Howard had to fight hard against the urge to touch Vince's leg with his hand. It would be so easy, he could just 'slip' and oops he'd be resting his hand on Vince's thigh. Instead, he put his left arm across the back of the sofa, partially for practicality, mainly because it almost felt like Vince was his. Howard wasn't sure that he imagined Vince getting slightly closer. He was sure they weren't pressed this close together a second ago but he didn't mention it. He was terrified that the younger man may run off or, worse, throw up.

Howard wasn't thinking about the TV anymore. He had no idea what Dr James Nickel was on about and, quite frankly, he didn't care. All he cared about was the smell of Vince's hair and his expensive cologne, the rise and fall of his chest. He could feel every breath against his side. Vince shuffled a little and Howard's breath hitched in his throat. He was lost now, in a world that was made entirely of Vince, where every smell was of Vince, every sound was Vince's voice, every thought, every feeling, every heartbeat; Vince, Vince, Vince.

Howard felt the rush over come him. That crazy, heady feeling you get just before you're about to do something exhilarating and slightly insane. With that, he grabbed Vince's face and crashed their mouths together. As soon as he'd done it, Howard wondered what he was doing. This was stupid, utterly, utterly stupid. Vince had a girlfriend, he was a changed man, he didn't like Howard in that way anymore but if all that was true, why wasn't Vince pushing him away? Why was he sliding his tongue lightly over Howard's lips begging for entry? Howard lips parted and the familiar feeling of kissing Vince filled his heart with joy. Howard wasn't sure how long they'd been wrapped up in their lazy tongue tussle, when Vince suddenly shoved him away with force he didn't know the smaller man possessed.

Vince's eye were wide with terror. He was pale and gasping and shaking his head furiously repeating the same word over and over again.

"No."

He got to his feet and scrabbled for his shoes, eyes still fixed on Howard. Still, whispering 'no', still shaking his head.

"I'm sorry." Howard tired to say as he realised what had happened. "Really Vince. I'm sorry. Don't go."

But the smaller man was already out the door. He ran, faster than he'd ever run before. He didn't look back. He couldn't. He couldn't bear to see that look in Howard's eyes; the confusion, the hurt.

His heart hammered in his chest as he neared home. His lungs screamed in protest as he gulped in the much needed air. His legs just about carried him to his front door. He fumbled with his key as he rushed to open the door. He wasn't sure why he was rushing so much. Howard hadn't followed him but he still felt as though he were being chased, chased by a memory that his body wouldn't let him forget. His mind flashed back to Howard, kissing him, slowly, lovingly, stirring up all kinds of emotions Vince had forgotten, or had been made to forget. He shoved the key in the door and kicked the thing open. The door slammed as it closed behind him. The house shook. Vince staggered through the living room, where Kath was on her feet staring at her boyfriend. She was clearly terrified.

"Vince." she gasped. "Are you okay? Have you been in a fight? Honey, what's happened?"

Vince ignored her. He just fell against the far wall. He felt dizzy. His mind was whirling with so many things he'd forgotten. He felt like he was waking up from a vivid nightmare. It was as though every time he blinked another terrifying memory returned to him. He could see flames, licking up a painting. His painting. He felt the anger burning inside himself as he watched the fire destroying his work. He wanted to cry but he couldn't. He was in too much pain. Then he saw two men, he didn't recognize them. They were kissing slowly. They looked like they were in love. They looked happy but Vince couldn't watch. He wanted to run away but he couldn't his limbs were too heavy. He vomited. Luckily, he'd managed to stagger to the sink.

"Vince." Kath gasped, from somewhere far, far away. Though she was right next to him, rubbing his back, "D'you need an ambulance?"

He shook his head and heard a voice that sounded like his own ask for water as he hurled again. More images flashed through his brain, men, bare skin, touching, rubbing together, men, men, men. One image after another and then a pain in his stomach like he'd never felt… except he had. He'd felt all this before but worse. A hundred times worse, a million times worse.

Another image.

He vomited.

And then…

Darkness.

* * *

**I promised angst! =]**

**Please review? xx**


	9. Chapter 9

**Descriptions of horrible (horrific) scenes - you have been warned.**

* * *

When Vince came around, he was lying on the sofa with Kath knelt next to him fanning his face gently with a magazine.

"Oh thank god." she cried, flinging her arms around his neck as his eyes fluttered open.

"Wha- what happened?" he croaked. He felt weak and exhausted.

"You fainted." she said. "You came in here, staggering and tripping all over the place, then you threw up and fainted."

Vince nodded. He remembered. For the first time in so many years, he remembered everything.

"Are you okay?" she asked. He nodded again and asked for a glass of water.

Vince sat up and sipped his drink carefully. Then, and only then, he spotted the glint of anger in his girlfriend's eyes.

"Well?" Kath said a little accusatorily "What happened? Are you drunk? On drugs? Ill? What?"

"I…" Vince stopped. He didn't know where to begin but now that he remembered, this whole situation was unfair on both of them. He had to tell her the truth. He had to try and explain but if he was honest, it still didn't make sense to him.

"What Vince?" begged Kath, cupping his cheek gently, "_Please_, tell me!"

"I'm… I'm… I mean I think I'm…" Vince knew there were tears streaming down his face.

"What? Vince. What is it? Sweetheart, you're scaring me. It can't be that bad. Are you… You're not… Are you dying?"

"No. I'm… I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I think I'm gay!" Vince blurted out. He clasped a hand over his mouth. Even as the words escaped his lips, he was willing them back inside. He closed his eyes and the tears flooded down his cheeks. He was waiting for a slap. He'd deserve it for leading Kath on all this time, for messing with her emotions. He certainly wouldn't blame her.

But she didn't slap him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close.

"It's okay." she whispered soothingly, over and over. "It's okay."

Vince sobbed hysterically into her shoulder, shaking furiously between every shuddering breath.

"What's wrong?" Kath asked gently pushing him back so she could see his face, "Why are you crying like this?"

"It's not _right_. I shouldn't feel like this. I was cured of this!" Anger evident in his voice as it waverd tearfully.

"Cured of what?"

"This _disease_."

"Being gay's not a disease. It's just the way some people are." she reassured him, stroking his arm gently.

"But I was _cured_!" Vince shouted, pushing Kath away roughly so she fell awkwardly to the floor. He looked down at her, as if seeing her for the first time. "Sorry." he muttered in a barely audible whisper.

"What d'you mean 'cured'?" she asked, confused and hurt by the way Vince was acting. He'd stopped crying now, though unshed tears still shone in his unblinking eyes as he stared blankly at a spot on the floor. His voice, when he spoke, was distant and unemotional; his face expressionless.

"I went to a place. A special 'school' to cure me of my mental disease." Kath opened her mouth to object that being gay wasn't a mental disease but she suspected Vince wouldn't really hear her so she closed it again. "They took us in, boys like me. They fixed us."

"Fix you… how?" Kath asked.

"They'd sit us in these steal baths and force us to listen, to watch… men fellating men. Men practising sodomy. They'd make us watch. Everywhere you looked. It's all you saw and heard. They'd give us drugs to make us lose control over our bodily functions. Defecating, urinating, vomiting. We couldn't stop. I couldn't stop." Vince's voice was a steady monotone and that's what upset Kath the most. She squeezed his arm affectionately but he neither acknowledged, nor felt the gesture.

"I couldn't escape." he continued. "I was too weak and they didn't help, wouldn't help. They just left me in a bath of my own faeces, my own vomit. Uncontrollable bowel spasms. The pain. The smell. They left me there. I was helpless, unable to move for three days at a time. They wouldn't let me eat; just sips of water when I was on the brink of dehydration. It was just vomiting and defecating and watching, for every second of every minute of every hour for seventy-two hours. Over and over. I couldn't sleep, the pain stopped me. So weak, barely alive, wishing I was dead." he paused. He didn't move, just waited. If he could see Kath's tears streaming down her face, he ignored them.

"We'd have a few days off." he said, "Just enough so that we didn't die. They'd fill us up with food, so we'd have something to throw up during our next 'treatment session'. They'd let me paint during that time off. Suggested that I paint the people who meant the most to me. I painted Howard."

Kath nodded. She understood.

"It was the best painting I've ever done. His face was exactly right. The shine of his eyes, the curve of his nose the contours of his lips. He looked… perfect." He paused again. There were tears shining in his eyes now, threatening to spill down his cheeks. The first sign of emotion since he began to recall his ordeal. "They burnt that picture." he said, in the same eerily calm voice. "Sat me in the bath. Gave me the drugs, let me vomit and shit myself halfway to hell as I watched my best painting of my best friend, of the boy I loved, going up in smoke. I tried to stop it. I tired to reach out. I even managed to get to my feet. So this tall, ugly man punched me. I think you asked once how I got my nose broken, that's how. I was so pathetic by that stage, he knocked me unconscious." Vince continued, without pause. "I nearly drowned in my own vomit and shit. Reckon they'd have let me die too, if my dad hadn't been a vicar. Just one less mentally ill faggot for the world to put up with."

"Oh Vince." Kath cried, throwing her arms around him and holding him tight. "How could anyone do that to you? How could they do that to anyone? You were just a boy." she sobbed into his shoulder. "You were just a boy." He sat; stiff and unmoving, like ice. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that Vince." she wept. "I'm so, so sorry."

* * *

**Sorry it's short... I litterally couldn't write/ check/ proof read anymore than this without putting myself in a really crap/ furious mood! Next chap will be longer, I promise!  
Thanks for reading!  
xx**

**p.s: I based Kath's reaction on a programme i accidently found myself watching the other day about the reactions of the wives who find out their husbands are gay. The majority of them were supportive - good on 'em, I say!**


	10. Chapter 10

It took just over an hour for Vince to relax enough to fall asleep. He hadn't said another word since he'd told Kath about his past and now she was just watching his chest rise and fall in the soft rhythm of sleep. She hoped his dreams were peaceful. She didn't think she could bear it if they took him back in time twenty years but, by the look on his face, he was happy enough. She brushed his hair lightly with her fingers. She'd seen pictures of him when he was younger, long black hair tumbling all over his shoulders. She couldn't help wondering if, had the treatment never happened, his hair would still be long. She sighed, tears threatening to spill again as she remembered the mechanical, matter-of-fact way he'd spoken and the hideous things he'd said.

--

Inside, Kath was a wreck but she stayed as strong as she could for Vince. She told him that she didn't want him to move out and that they could live together as friends as long as he wanted (or perhaps needed). For the first few days, she tried to get him to open up to her again to get it off his chest. She'd heard that talking can help but every time she mentioned it, Vince shut down completely. She tried to encourage him to embrace being gay;

"Mmm, Brad Pitt's soooo hot. Don't you think Vince?" she would ask as they watched Thelma and Louise but Vince just shrugged and said,

"How would I know?"

She tried to be patient but his snapping and temper tantrums were more than she could cope with. But worse, much worse than any of this, was the fact that she couldn't stop herself loving him and that's why she had to call on all her courage a couple of weeks later.

They were watching a fairly nondescript film. Vince wasn't even sure what it was but he wasn't sure about much at all these days. He looked down the sofa and saw Kath, pretending to be engrossed in the drama. He could tell she was pretending. He knew everything about her. He knew every line of her face, every delicate curve of her body. He knew her favourite food, colour, country, animal. He could tell you anything you wanted to know about her and that's when it hit him. That was love. The knowing she's upset even though she's smiling. The way he can tell what she's thinking. The way he knows all those things about her.

Slowly he sidled up to her and kissed her furiously. It took Kath a while to figure out what was happening and then she was torn in an argument between her heart and her head. Surprisingly, her head won the fight and she shoved Vince away from her screaming,

"Stop it!"

"What?" he asked, in total confusion. "Don't you love me anymore?"

"Of course I do." she sighed, she could feel tears prickling her eyes. This was harder and more confusing than anything she'd ever dealt with in her life before.

"And I love you." he insisted. It would be easy, so, so easy to give in to the insistence and surrender to the lie. To carry on as though this was the perfect relationship like she'd always thought it had been. And then, the rational side of her brain cut in and reminded her that whatever she's going through, Vince's emotions are a million times worse.

"You don't love me." she sighed. "You only thought you did."

"No I-"

"Shhhh." she soothed, touching his temple gently. "I know this is hard Vince. It's hard for both of us. But… I don't think that I could ever make you feel the same way Howard does."

"Howard." Vince suddenly gasped, as though someone had breathed new life to him. He was animated now and a little panicked.

"What?"

"I left him at his flat. I just ran away from him."

"Why?"

"Because he…" Vince stopped. He couldn't tell Kath he'd kissed a man whilst she was still with him, so he settled for, "…he made me remember. I couldn't cope so I ran away. Damn. That was over a fortnight ago. He's going to hate me."

"Maybe you should ring him up. Organize a date." she grinned, poking Vince playfully in the dropped his gaze to his lap and, much to Kath's surprise, whispered,

"I… I think… I think I'd like that."

"Really?" she asked. The man nodded and she squealed because she was genuinely proud and excited by the tiny step Vince had taken. "I'll get the phone."

She carried the telephone across the room, carefully manoeuvring the wire around various obstacles and passed the phone to Vince. He took the phone and placed it on his lap, just staring at it for a second before asking Kath if she could leave him alone.

She obliged but she could feel her heart hammering in her chest as she crossed to the hall. And, as she watched through the crack between the door and the wall, part of her knew she was doing the right thing but the other part just kept reminding her that she was losing him forever.

Vince dialled Howard's number slowly, as though every number was vital. He held the phone to his ear and took a deep breath. He felt partially like he was dying and partially as though he was being born again. His heart skipped a beat when he heard Howard's voice.

"Hello."

This was it. He was going to ask him, the thing he'd always wanted to ask but never could. The thing he was always blocked from but there were no more barriers anymore.

"Helloooooooo." Howard's voice called down the line again.

And that's when Vince discovered his final barrier, himself. He couldn't speak. His throat was too dry. Kath watched him corpsing like an actor, who'd forgotten his lines but the line was easy, it was just 'hello'. It was the execution that was causing him such a problem. Suddenly. Vince hung up the phone and ran to the toilet. Kath could hear him vomiting from the kitchen. She almost cried. The man was so messed up and all because of his father's ridiculous prejudices.

--

A few days later he worked up the courage to ring Howard again. Kath refused to leave his side this time.

"I'm right here in case you need someone to prompt you to say 'hello'." she smiled cheekily. He flashed her a grin, before his face fell into nervous disarray. Kath's heart felt heavy. Vince had been getting better since that last failed phone call. He'd even gone back to work and he'd been bubbly and happy again but now he looked tormented. Maybe this _wasn't _the best thing for him but he was determined to beat this and he dialled the number purposefully.

"Hello." Howard's voice rang into his ear. He glanced at Kath, terror in his eyes but she just nodded encouragingly and he mirrored her movement took a deep breath and whispered,

"Howard?"

"Yes."

"It's V-vince. Vince Noir." Kath smiled. Vince seemed so nervous about this phone call. He was taking a big step and she was proud of him.

"Oh. Erm. Hi."

"Hi."

He glanced at Kath again with eyes that were saying, please get out now, this is private and she took the hint.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Hi." This was ridiculous Vince frowned. They couldn't just keep saying 'hi' for the rest of their lives and then Howard said something totally unexpected.

"I'm sorry Vince."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for trying to you know, kiss you. I know you've got a girlfriend and that you're not… you know, gay."

Vince's whole body tensed at the word but he breathed out slowly and fought back the nausea.

"We've split up."

"What?"

"Me and Katharine. We're not together anymore."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I…"

"I'd like to meet up with you." Vince blurted out before he allowed any part of him to stop the words.

"What?" Howard sounded stunned and Vince could completely understand that. The last time he'd seen Vince he'd been running away like the victim of attempted rape.

"You know, like… together. No one else just us. On a…" Vince stalled. He physically couldn't force out the next word. The bile rose and churned in his stomach and he thought he was going to hurl but he bit his lip hard. He _had_ to fight off this feeling. It would get easier, he promised himself, it would be worth it.

"Do you…" Howard sounded shaky and uncertain. "Do you mean like a… a date?"

"Yes." gasped Vince quickly. "Yes. What do you think?"

"I'd love to."

"Okay. Great. I'll meet you at the King's Head on Friday at eight. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah." Howard said.

"Okay. See you then." Vince went to hang up and stopped just before the receiver was replaced.

"You still there Howard?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah."

"Good. I'm sorry I ran away from you. I was just being stupid."

Howard was about to say it wasn't a problem as the dial tone buzzed sharply in his ear.

--

Vince wore his nicest jeans and his best shirt. He twirled a couple of times in front of the mirror. He didn't look quite right. He wanted to stun Howard. He wanted him to think that Vince had been worth the wait, would be worth the long fight he knew was ahead of them. He sighed dejectedly. No one was worth the kind of fight Vince needed. He was broken. A fractured soul and a manipulated heart. Howard wouldn't be willing to struggle through all this. No one would. He was sure of it.

"You look nice." Kath commented, as Vince walked through the sitting room to the front door.

"You don't think it's too much?"

Kath shook her head. "Anyway, you said he knows you better than anyone."

"He used to." Vince muttered glumly.

"Look, he wont care what you're wearing." Kath promised, standing up and rubbing his arm gently. "Just go, be yourself and _please_ Vince, try to enjoy yourself."

Vince nodded his muted agreement and mumbled something about being back later.

"Alright. Ring me if you need anything, okay? And Vince, talk to him. He deserves to know the truth."

Kath's words were still reverberating around his skull as he entered the pub. It might have been his imagination but everyone seemed to be scowling at him as he walked up to the bar. Maybe they knew, maybe they all knew and they were just waiting for the moment they could attack him. Vince ordered a pint and sipped it nervously at the bar. His blue eyes flicked around the room but he couldn't see anyone he recognised, just a sea of angry, potential thugs.

Five minutes later, his nerves were shot to pieces. His hand around his glass was trembling. He was convinced that the burly bloke in the corner had a knife and he was fairly confident the barmaid was ready to glass him. He knew they all hated him. They all knew what he was. He took another sip, trembling so much his mouth nearly missed the glass.

"Are you okay?" The barmaid asked gently.

"Don't hurt me." he cried. She frowned in utter confusion giving Vince enough time to compose himself and say, "I'm sorry." before retreating to a dark corner to wait.

Only seconds later, Howard came through the door. Vince's heart skipped a beat, skipped several beats. He had his long brown coat wrapped around his middle and his hair was everywhere (or perhaps windswept). He straightened himself out a little and walked to the bar. He searched the room feverishly but Vince shrunk into the shadows of his alcove. Now that they were both here, this seemed ridiculous. Kath was at home, Kath the woman he loved. The woman who could give him everything. He didn't need Howard. He stood up quietly and tried to sneak out past his old friend without being noticed. As he crept behind Howard, his heart was pounding so hard he was sure Howard would hear it. He watched his friend, carefully trying to avoid contact and then, he fell straight over a chair. Now the whole room really was looking at him, sprawled out on the floor, arms and legs jutting out everywhere.

"Vince." he heard Howard's voice question as he and another man yanked him to his feet. "Are you okay? How many have you had?"

"Just one. I just wasn't looking where I was going."

"Whatever you say mate." laughed the other man. "You looked like you were wasted, creeping around and walking into things."

Vince smiled politely and thanked him for his help. The man shrugged and sat back down. It was only then that Vince realised Howard was still holding his arm. He yanked it away and mumbled something about sitting in the corner and Howard followed him to the table.

"Are you okay?" Howard asked, when he'd had a few sips of beer.

"Yeah. You?"

"No, I mean... were you trying to sneak out?"

"No." Vince lied, too quickly, too loudly and with bright red cheeks.

"It's okay." Howard soothed, reaching out a hand and squeezing Vince's fingers. "I'm nervous too."

Vince immediately snatched his hand away. He could feel the urge to be sick bubbling up inside him but he fought it back. Not now, not anymore. He forced a smile at Howard, trying to ignore how hurt he looked.

"You look really nice." Howard tried again, his own cheeks flushing a little now.

"Thanks." and then after a moment of uncomfortable shuffling; "You too."

"Look, are you sure you're okay. If you don't want to do this, we could just start this evening again and be here as mates."

"No." Vince cried, with sudden realisation that that would be the worst thing that could possibly happen. "No. It's just… all these people." he looked around at the virtually empty pub. "I'm sorry. I'm just being stupid."

"Right." The silence that wrapped around them was suffocating. "So," Howard tried, feeling as though this was as good a time as any to bring up Vince's questionable sexuality. "I thought you weren't gay." he chuckled a little and nervously sipped his drink. It wasn't until the words left his mouth that he realised what a stupid thing to say it might have been.

"I'm not. And keep your voice down." Vince hushed urgently.

"Why? What do you think they're going to do?"

The smaller man shrugged, his eyes still firmly in his pint. He hadn't looked at Howard since they'd been here.

"Can we go to yours?" Vince blurted out suddenly.

"Vince. We've only been on one date." joked Howard.

"No!" Vince cried, horror contorting his face. "I didn't mean…"

"I know you didn't." smiled Howard uneasily. "Umm, I guess we could, if you want. We'll get a takeaway on the way back."

Vince nodded gratefully and stood up.

Howard thought about trying to hold Vince's hand but he just sensed there'd be some kind of uproar at even an attempt of physical contact. Despite knowing that, Howard couldn't help feeling that Vince was stood _very _close, their legs bumping together as they walked along and he was quiet, far too quiet for everything to be okay. Howard had never known his friend to be so wistful and he just wished he'd start babbling on about some new band he was into.

Amazingly, as the front door to his flat closed behind them, his wish almost came true.

"You still got the DVD player?" Vince asked, walking into the living room. Howard almost jumped in surprise at the fact Vince had opted to speak first.

"No. They've taken it back. I'm writing an article on this new Nintendo game. It's supposed to be brilliant but I don't get it myself."

"I'll play." Vince said, that trademark grin suddenly invading his previously distressed face. "I love Nintendo. You know Howard, I'm beginning to think you've got the best job in the world."

The older man laughed and assured Vince that was not the case as he set up the game station and Vince laid out the fish and chips on a little plywood table.

They'd been playing a while, Vince cackling with glee when he beat Howard, which was every time they played.

"Come on old man." he was shouting as he blasted the last of Howard's army men to smithereens.

"Oi. Less of the old. I'm the same age as you and don't you forget it."

"Alright, alright." Vince giggled, setting his controller down on the floor. He relaxed back into the sofa and leant over to take a chip from the newspaper

Howard watched Vince, mouth agape, as he slowly nibbled around the edge of the chip, tiny teeth nipping away at the edges with delicate precision before the chip was popped into his mouth. It was unfair that anyone could be that perfect that... watchable.

"What?" Vince asked, when he'd finished.

"Nothing." Howard said, shaking his head and blushing a little at having been caught staring. "I'll tidy the game up. D'you want to see if there's a film on?"

There wasn't. There was the news at 10 and a rerun of The Simpsons on channel four, which of course caused an argument.

"But the news is boring!" groaned Vince, holding the remote high above his head and looking at Howard flirtatiously.

"That's not going to work, is it little man?" smiled Howard, walking towards his friend. "I'm taller than you." he laughed grabbing the arm holding the remote as Vince backed into the wall. Vince smiled, looking up at him though his long lashes. Howard was now inches from Vince. Their breath was mingling in warm pants of a apprehension. They were lost now, the only contact was Howard's hand on his wrist but it felt like their souls were dancing just through the sparks in their eyes. Howard's hand went to Vince's face, cupping his cheek and lifting his chin upwards. Vince just let it happen, the remote falling from his limp fingers; the TV forgotten. Howard moved forward and Vince angled a little, inviting him in. Their lips brushed together and suddenly, Vince's brain exploded. He saw a fist connect with his face, he saw Howard's face being licked with fire and the pain clenched his stomach. He ducked out from under Howard and ran to the other side of the room, in a cold sweat. His hands ringing nervously.

Howard turned around and saw Vince huddled in the corner of the room.

"What's going on Vince?"

"I can't." he whispered.

"You can't? What was today about? Are you trying to mess with me Vince? I really like you. I'd love it if we could be more than friends and you said you were gay once but if you're not then… Look, I don't want to lose you because we're pushing something that you're not."

"No. You don't understand." Vince said. Howard was sick of being told that.

"Make me understand." he urged.

"I want to." Vince whispered.

"Want to what?"

"Want to kiss you, to be with you. I just can't. Not yet."

"Vince, you're not making any sense."

"I'm sorry." Vince said, "I'll go."

"I don't want you to go. I just want you to tell me what's going on."

"I like you Howard but I can't do anything. Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because… I just can't." Vince stammered. "I'm gonna go." he said, walking quickly to the door.

"No. Stay. Don't walk away from me again… please!"

There were tears in his eyes, when Vince turned to look at Howard. He looked tormented and… guilty?

"I'm can't stay. I'm sorry."

"I'll walk you home."

"No." Vince cried desperately.

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothing. Nothing. I just, I need time." and with that he burst through the door and ran, ignoring Howard's pleas for him to stop and come back. He rounded the corner, collapsed against a wall and almost threw up, though he wasn't sure if that was because of what had happened or because his lungs were close to explosion.

Back at the flat, Howard collapsed into the sofa and sighed and then thoughts started to race through his head. What was Vince playing at? Why was he acting so strangely? What was he hiding?


	11. Chapter 11

It took just over half an hour for Howard's curiosity to get the better of him. He got up, grabbed his coat and went to Vince's house. It wasn't until he got outside the huge home that he realised how stalker-esque this really was. He was on the opposite pavement to chez Noir, pressing himself against the wall, hidden in the shadows. Now he was here, he couldn't think of any good reason to go barging into Vince's house. He couldn't even summon the courage to knock on the door. He didn't think he could stand rejection twice in one night. He was about to go home, when the front door opened and out came an attractive woman. She was wearing a fluffy blue dressing gown and carrying a black bin bag. And that's when Howard worked it all out. Vince was still with his girlfriend. It all made sense now. Vince didn't want them to be seen out together. He didn't kiss Howard but he said he wanted to. He'd seemed guilty. He wouldn't let Howard go to his home.

Vince wanted Howard to be some dirty little secret. Well, he could forget that. Howard Moon just wasn't that kind of man. He emerged from the shadows and marched across the road with little concern for the screeching car.

"Oi. Katharine, isn't it?"

Kath looked up, her eyes widening with fear as she saw the oncoming six foot plus psycho-maniac yelling at her.

"Your boyfriend is lying cheating scum."

Boyfriend? Kath frowned. Vince? But who the hell could this man be? And then it hit her.

"Howard?" she asked nervously.

"He's told you about me? What kind of relationship is this?"

"No. You don't understand." she said, holding her hands out pleadingly.

"**Stop telling me I don't understand.**" Howard screamed.

Kath jumped violently and blinked, dark blue eyes flashing with fear. She was bitterly aware of next door's curtain twitching and the opposite house's lights flicking on.

"Perhaps you'd like to come inside." she offered. She did not want to brawl on the streets.

"What? Are you going to try some sick little ménage à trois?" Howard spat.

"Don't be ridiculous." Kath yelled back. She was so angry now, she was shaking. "Vince and I broke up."

"So why are you still living together?"

"Because he still needs me. He needs someone to lean on. You have no idea what he's going through. You just make him feel guilty because he can't do the things you want."

"Guilty? If he hasn't done anything wrong then he'd have nothing to feel guilty about."

Suddenly, there was a sharp slap and a dull ringing in Howard's ears as palm connected with face. The pain seared his skin. When he looked up, Kath was glaring at him, tears shining in her eyes.

"He hasn't done anything wrong." she spat with venom coated ferocity, "None of this is his fault. Don't you _dare _try and suggest otherwise."

There was silence for a moment, with only the hushed sounds of far away cars to disturb them. They stood, staring each other down, trying to gage how far they could trust the other. Eventually, the silence was broken.

"What's going on?" Howard asked quietly. "I mean, really… What happened to Vince the day he left school? You know, don't you?"

"You need to come inside." Kath said stepping aside and guiding Howard into the house.

"Is Vince here?"

"He's relaxing in the shower. He was in a right state when he came home this evening."

Kath sat Howard down on a pristine white sofa. The design was so unlike Vince, so clearly her influence. She went to get to mugs of coffee and a small bottle of whiskey, she was pretty sure the impending conversation would merit it. When she returned, Howard thanked her for the drink and she began to tell Vince's story. Howard didn't say a thing except;

"He told me some boy at school broke his nose."  
"He told me the same thing."

By the end, Howard was furious. The anger was whipping up inside him. How could Vince's dad do that? How could he be so heartless? Everyone in the village could see Vince wasn't the same, they could all see how broken and weak he was and yet no one ever did anything to stop it. _Howard_ never did anything to stop it. He felt sick. He'd allowed that to happen, right under his nose. He'd seen the affects of the 'treatment' first hand and he'd never mentioned it to a soul. He'd just let it happen.

"It's all my fault." he said coldly. "I should've known. I should've done something."

"You couldn't have known." Kath said, rubbing his arm gently.

"I walked away from it!" Howard cried angrily "I knew something wasn't right but I walked away. I could've done something!" And suddenly he was sobbing, uncontrollable tears escaping his tear ducts and pouring down his cheeks.

It was years since he'd cried, probably since the last time he'd skinned his knee, when he fell of his bike aged about ten. Vince had laughed at him and it had made him angry and upset but, when he'd cried, Vince had put his arms around his shoulders and made everything better. Vince had always been there for him, when he needed him growing up and where was Howard when Vince had needed him most? He was with the rest of the villagers looking fervently in the other direction. He sobbed harder. Kath put her arms around him awkwardly and he could feel that she was crying too.

"How could his parents let that happen to him?" Howard asked eventually, detaching himself from Kath.

"I like to think they didn't know." Vince's voice brought them both back into a sort of reality.

"Vince?" Howard said, looking up to find him, stood in the doorway, wrapped up tightly in a cream dressing gown. Standing up and wiping his face with his sleeve, Howard asked, "Are you okay?"

The smaller man nodded and looked at Kath. "You told him then?"

"I had to. He thought you and I were a couple. He needed to know the truth and how hard all this is for you."

"Vince I…" Howard started but he was cut off as Vince flew across the room and collided with Howard, arms tight around his waist.

"It was so horrible." Vince said, tears rolling down his own face and soaking into Howard's shirt. "I was so alone, I had no one to turn to."

"I was there."

"I couldn't… you saw what being with you did to me. It brought back everything too vividly. I wanted to reach out to you, I tried to but… I dreamt of you saving me for a while and then… and then every thought I had of you was tainted. Every memory stained by illness and pain. I couldn't even dream about you without hurling everywhere."

"I'm so sorry Vince. I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop it."

"It's okay." Vince said, pressing his face further into Howard's chest. "You're here now."

* * *

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Next chapter will be longer! =]**


	12. Chapter 12

They decided to take it very slowly from then on. They'd go down the pub and moan about their lives and then, if Vince was feeling up to it, they'd head back to one of their homes, normally Howard's because they could be alone there, and watch TV, fingers linked together.

Slowly, Vince grew in confidence and would steal a cheeky kiss on the cheek before leaving Howard's flat to go home. Howard never forced anything, never tried to get Vince to go any quicker than he wanted to and Vince was grateful for his unrelenting patience. One night, when the film was long, the lights were low and Howard and Vince were cuddled close together on the sofa, the younger man leant across and kissed Howard's cheek gently. Howard lips flickered into a small smile but he didn't want to show it too much, he has tried not to draw attention to these random kisses when they happen. It usually stopped there, with the peck to the cheek, and that was always enough but tonight it wasn't enough. Vince kissed him again and again and again, each soft touch closer to his lips than the last. Howard held his breath in anticipation as a final lingering kiss was placed at the corner of his mouth. Then, warm lips connected with his own.

Howard was so surprised, he forgot how to react for a moment but he soon regained his composure and kissed back, simple lips to lips in an expression of love, though neither was ready to admit it yet. Then, Howard felt Vince's tongue lap lightly at his bottom lip and he found himself pulling away and whispering,

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. It's not like I'm a virgin and you're taking my first time." Vince responded, angry at having been cut off despite his best efforts. Howard gave in after that and they spent the rest of the evening led on the sofa kissing lazily.

Now that they were kissing, Howard felt like it was a proper relationship. He didn't mind waiting until they were behind closed doors, it was always worth the wait. Eventually, Vince built up the courage to do more, little touches to the chest in public. Little shy glances, flirtatious smiles and licks of the lips, all in full view of anyone who was observant and open-minded enough to see it.

After a few weeks, when Vince and Howard were walking home from a restaurant and no one else was around, Vince slipped his hand through Howard's. The older man's fingers tightened around his hand and he couldn't stop the grin from flowing across his face. This was a big step. They walked for a long time, hand in hand, in peaceful tranquillity. Every now and again, Howard would look down at Vince, who'd be chewing his lip nervously but he'd put on a brave smile if ever he noticed Howard looking and the older man would squeeze his hand encouragingly.

Just as they were nearing Howard's flat, they heard a shout from the other end of the street,

"Get off the street you poofs."

Howard glanced immediately at Vince, who seemed to freeze from the waist up, his legs still moving in robotic fashion. His grip on Howard's hand tightened like a vice and he went very, very pale.

"You okay?" Howard muttered under his breath.

Vince nodded lightly but didn't say anything. He looked like he was trying not to throw up and perhaps he was. The anger welled up inside Howard as he watched Vince battling bravely with his past.

Vince sat on the sofa quietly. He still looked frozen, he hardly moved. Howard was really worried about him and went to get them both a coffee. He watched Vince over his shoulder whilst the kettle boiled and he was disturbed to see that Vince still hadn't moved a muscle. He brought back two steaming, if slightly stained, mugs of coffee and passed one to Vince. The smaller man took it but he didn't bother to look at Howard or say 'thank you'. He just sipped it and cupped it in his cold hands. It was quiet for a while. Howard didn't want to speak first, he'd learnt to be patient where Vince was concerned. So, he waited.

The silence dragged on, broken only by the tiny slurping of coffee being sipped.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Vince asked suddenly. The shock must have been apparent on Howard's face because Vince clarified, "I don't wanna go back out there alone." he glanced to the window as though the people who'd shouted at them earlier might leap through it at any second. His body tensed a little.

"Umm. Yeah. That's fine. My bed's… well…. you're kinda sat on my bed." Howard blushed. So far, he'd tried to hide the painfully small size of his flat.

"You sleep on the sofa?"

"No. It folds out." Howard continued to blush. "Into a double bed. You can have that." he forced a kind smile. "Jump up and I'll unfold it."

Vince stood up slowly and stepped to the side. Howard reached down between the cushions and fished about until he found a tiny blue rope. Under his breath, he muttered _one, two, three_ and heaved. The bed sprung up like a jack in the box causing both men to leap away.

"There you are." Howard smiled at him. "It's ready-made and everything."

"Thanks." Vince gave him a grateful smile and then looking around the tiny room he asked, "Where are you gonna…?"

"Oh, there's some blankets in the cupboard. I'll use them and set up camp on the floor."

"You could…" He stopped. Howard looked at Vince inquiringly but chose to say nothing. He knew what Vince was going to suggest but he didn't want to push it. He'd learnt never to mention one of these steps as it made Vince anxious again.

"You could… you know, stay on here with me." Vince winced as the words left his mouth.

"It's okay." Howard said, walking over and rubbing Vince's arm gently. "It's fine. I can sleep on the floor."

"No." Vince shook his head, reaching up and kissing Howard's cheek. "I don't want you to put yourself out." He eyed the bed warily, swallowed and said "There's plenty of room."

"If you're sure?"

Vince blinked slowly, let out a long breath and nodded. It was what he wanted, he was sure, it was just hard to ignore the churning in his gut and the nagging in his brain.

Howard went to find his pyjamas. He always wore them because the sheets were thin and the flat was cold. They were embarrassing really, when he thought about it. On the front was a picture of two mice, or maybe they were rats, called 'Pinky and the Brain'. He took pride in never having seen the show. He knew it was a brand new programme for kids but he'd bought the pyjamas because they were cheap, really cheap because there was a hole by the collar. He threw the rest of his clothes in the washing basket and walked back into the main room. Vince was already under the sheets wearing just his thin shirt and boxers.

"You okay?" Howard asked as he slid into the bed.

Vince nodded and curled into a ball facing away from Howard. Howard could feel the sheets shaking a little. He couldn't work out if Vince was crying or just cold. He hoped so hard it was the latter.

He looked up at the ceiling. He'd always liked the patterns there despite the fact they were caused by an old leak in the flat above. He always watched them before he slept, swirling prettily around the ceiling. He tried to let the patterns take him over and pull at his heavy lids. Just as he was beginning to feel drowsy, Vince's voice broke the peace.

"Howard." he squeaked. "Are you awake?"

"Mm-hmm." Howard mumbled sleepily.

"I'm cold."

"Oh. I'll get you another blanket." Howard said, getting up lethargically, a yawn capturing him and coursing through his body.

"No." Vince whispered, twisting his head to look at his friend. "Maybe, maybe we could share body heat."

Howard's eyes widened in delight and surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Stop asking if I'm sure." Vince smiled slightly. "You're acting like my bloody minder."

"Sorry." Howard grinned.

"Just come here and keep me warm like a big hot water-bottle."

"Is that all I am to you?" Howard jibed, slipping back under the sheets and shuffling over to Vince. He didn't move any further than that. He felt Vince's hand reach back until it connected with Howard's arm and pulled it around his body.

"S'better." he mumbled, shuffling back into Howard so that they were pressed together. Vince felt Howard press a kiss into the back of his head. He felt Howard's grip around his waist tighten and heard his breathing even out as a slight, soothing snore filled the room.

Vince took ages to fall asleep. He felt comfortable and safe; safer than he'd ever felt before in his life but still, in the pit of his stomach, he could feel the guilt and nausea bubbling up. He swallowed it down. He tried to block out all those feelings and just lose himself in Howard's smell and the feel of him pressed along his back, his arm around his waist, tight enough so he felt secure but not so tight that he felt penned in. Eventually, all these positives took Vince over and his eyelids drooped shut. He didn't have one nightmare that night and when he woke up it was because the smell of bacon was wafting up his nose.

"Hi." he croaked, when he spotted Howard in the kitchen part of the room.

"Morning." Howard turned to smile at him. "Sleep well?"

"Yes. Best for a long time." And that was the truth.

Howard nodded and turned back to the grill. "You still like bacon?"

"Yes. It's my favourite."

"Thought so." Howard smiled. He was surprised to hear the creaking of bedsprings as Vince got out of the bed and the padding of feet on old thin carpet as Vince came over.

"Mmmm." Vince hummed as he got closer to the grill. "D'you remember when your mum made bacon sandwiches after we went fishing?"

"Fishing." laughed Howard. "I don't think we even saw a fish."

"Well, we were using cardboard rods and a paddling pool." Vince laughed. "I caught _loads _of imaginary fish and an octopus. Remember?"

Howard remembered. He remembered sitting there in a huge stripy deckchair as Vince removed his soggy, cardboard fishing rod from the paddling pool claiming to have caught yet another fish and telling Howard that if he used his imagination, he'd catch something too.

"Aha!" Howard had grinned as something imaginary had tugged at the hook.

"Ooo!" Vince had giggled, "What d'you get?"

And for some reason, instead of saying fish, or eel or any other water dwelling creature, he'd said; "Funky merman."

And Vince had rolled around the floor laughing for ages until Howard had splashed some water over him, trying desperately to blame it on the imaginary merman. A ferocious water fight had ensued, which of course, Vince had won because he'd never been afraid to take it one step too far, whereas Howard couldn't break a rule, only bend it just to breaking point.

Howard chuckled lightly at the memory saying, "Good times." as he dished up some bacon sandwiches onto a plate and passed it to Vince.

They lazed around the house all morning, long periods of reminiscing broken only by fleeting touches and pecks to the cheek. It was peaceful and Howard felt as though he could get used to this everyday. Of course, eventually, it had to end. Vince had to be at the radio station by three so Howard had offered to drop Vince home after lunch on his way to the newspaper office.

Vince bounced through the front door waving madly as Howard's car disappeared down the street. As he positively skipped into the living room, Kath looked up from her magazine and said,

"You stay at Howard's?"

"Yep." he laughed, pulling her to her feet and spinning her around in a circle, in a weird happy dance.

"Did you sleep with him?" she gasped.

"No." Vince laughed. "Well, yes but not like that. We just sorta… cuddled. It was nice."

Kath laughed and hugged him tight. "I'm very proud of you, you know that, don't you?"

She felt Vince nod against her shoulder.

"I'm sorry I put you through all this." he sighed. "I'll try and move out soon, let you get on with your life."

"Don't be silly. I like having you here." she said "And there's no_ way _I'd be able to pay rent on my own."

"Hmm. Well, I've gotta go to work." he grinned.

"You had no intention of moving out, did you?" she laughed.

"Well… no. But I thought I should mention it, just in case." he winked, and rushed up the stairs to get changed.

* * *

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	13. Chapter 13

Howard and Vince kept meeting up; four times a week, five times a week, everyday. Vince started to stay over at Howard's more often. He even appeared in the middle of the night once and just demanded a cuddle to help him sleep. Howard, despite being bleary eyed and mid-dream of Jazz writing freedom, of course invited him in and held Vince until he was snuggling up to him like a tiny baby. It was that night, as he stroked his hand through Vince's hair, soothing him, that he noticed how much longer his hair had become. The next morning he asked Vince about it. He just shrugged mumbling something about always liking his long hair when he was a child.

Vince became more confident on the street, touching Howard's hand, holding it when there weren't many people around and he always walked incredibly close to him but he still couldn't kiss him, not in public. He was too afraid of what people would think and that was what made him most nervous, other people. He knew he shouldn't care what others thought but it was because of what other's had thought that had led to his horrific past.

Vince was sat at a table in the King's Head waiting for Howard to return with their pints. Behind the bar was one of those young, overtly camp student-types and Vince could see he was flirting with Howard. Howard looked embarrassed and a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny of such a gorgeous and particularly forward young man but that didn't stop the jealously building in Vince's gut. He could hear a voice in the back of his mind telling him that, if he wasn't careful, he'd lose Howard to a confident boy like that.

--

"Did you ever go for guys like him?" Vince asked when they were safely sat on the sofa at his own house. Kath was away with some friends for a couple of days. It seemed they'd thought she needed some time away from her ex, who she still lived with for, what to them seemed, no decent reason. Of course they didn't know the truth, Kath would never betray Vince's trust like that but everyone had agreed it would be a good idea for Kath to get out and meet new people.

So, with the house empty, Vince had managed, in the nicest possible way, to persuade Howard that they would be more comfortable at his three bedroom home than Howard's dingy studio flat.

"Like what?" Howard asked, racking his brains to think who Vince could be referring to.

"The guy behind the bar."

"What? In the pub?"

"Yeah."

"No." laughed Howard. "God no. He was far too young."

"But he was flirting with you." Vince sulked a bit. He knew was acting like a spoilt kid but he didn't really care.

Howard looked over to him and smirked a little,

"Were you jealous?" he asked.

"No." lied Vince, eyes darting to his knees.

"You've got no need to be jealous." Howard assured him, shuffling closer to him on the sofa and taking his hand. "I don't care about anyone else. Just you."

"You're not gonna wait forever for me to be better though, are you?"

"I'll wait as long as I have to." Howard promised and suddenly Vince was on him, kissing him furiously. Desperate, needy kisses to the neck, the jaw, nipping at any exposed flesh and Howard gasped at the intensity. He felt nimble fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, popping them open one at a time, slipping a hand inside, just resting on his chest as they kissed frantically.

Vince got to his feet and reached out a hand to Howard. He took it and felt himself being pulled to his feet. Slowly, Vince began to lead Howard upstairs to the bedroom. Vince chewed anxiously on his lip and he was shaking a little with every step. It was obvious he was nervous as he sat on the bed and looked up at Howard.

"I don't know what I'm…" he trailed off, chewing his thumb and looking anywhere except Howard's eyes.

"Vince we don't have to." Howard promised, sitting next to Vince on the huge soft bed.

"I want to." Vince said sternly, though he still couldn't make eye contact.

"You don't have to prove anything to me."

"I know. I'm proving it to me."

Howard placed his hand on Vince's cheek, rubbing over his cheekbone softly with his thumb as he forced the younger man to look him in the eye;

"Are you absolutely sure?" he asked seriously. He really needed to know. He couldn't bear the thought of Vince collapsing with guilt or not being able to go through with it and ending up back at square one but Vince looked defiant and serious and fixed Howard with his beautiful blue peepers.

"I'm sure." he promised and, grabbing a fistful of Howard's shirt, dragged him into a white hot kiss.

--

Vince didn't sleep that night. He just stayed still, staring out into the light, which was creeping through the curtains. He was curled around Howard, taking comfort from the rise and fall of his chest. He cried silently and it was strange because he was happy, happier than he'd ever been but there was still the nagging doubt that told him all this was wrong. He ignored it and cuddled closer to Howard but he couldn't relax. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the images, vivid and sharp. His dad chanting at him. The flames on his paintings. The videos from the centre. The pain would return and the tiny voice that was constantly telling him this was wrong would be screaming. So he stayed awake and he listened to Howard sleeping, sometimes pressing a kiss to Howard's chest, just reminding himself that Howard was worth all of this. He really hoped he was.

--

In the morning, Howard woke to find Vince gone. He panicked. Maybe he'd had second thoughts. He'd certainly been quiet afterwards, though Howard had just put that down to being tired or at least that's what he liked to think. But the empty bed and silent house suggested otherwise. Though, Howard reasoned, where could Vince really go? This was, after all, his house. Howard got slowly to his feet and pulled on his trousers. His mind was racing and the one thought that simply wouldn't leave him alone was… what if he's done something stupid?

Howard had seen Vince self-harm before. He'd seen what the process had done to him at it's worse. Had last night been one step too far?

"Vince." he called anxiously, as he ventured out onto the landing. "Vince."

There was no reply so he walked cautiously down the stairs. He searched the house feverishly but it was obvious he was alone. He slumped onto the sofa. He was stupid. He knew Vince hadn't been ready. He knew he should have waited longer. Just then the doorbell went. Howard ignored it. He couldn't answer Vince's door dressed in just his trousers with his hair all messy, who knew what people would think. It rang again. And again. And again. And again and again and again. Whoever was at the door was _really _desperate to come in.

Suddenly, Howard heard Vince's voice drift through the wooden door,

"Oi. Howard, you bumberclaat! I can't get my keys out of my pocket. Let me in."

Stunned, Howard leapt to his feet and all but ran to the door. He opened it and Vince held up four shopping bags proudly;

"Didn't have anything in for breakfast." he grinned as an explanation. "And I wasn't sure what milk you liked so I've got three different ones."

Howard raised an eyebrow. "I'd have had whatever."

"I know but… I just wanted to say 'thank you' for sticking with me and being patient and… well just for everything." he grinned wickedly as he remembered the night before.

"Vince." Howard smiled and ruffled his hair lightly. "I thought you'd done a runner."

"Oh." laughed Vince. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Are you okay? You're not, you know, regretting it."

"Not at all." Vince said and it was almost true; definitely progress.

After that, they became virtually inseparable. Katharine returned home from her holiday to find Vince much happier and much more like the Vince she remembered.

"You know." she said one evening, whilst they were watching some mind numbing television. "Maybe we _should_ think of finding separate homes."

"What?" Vince asked horrified, his head snapping to look at Kath, his face pale. He knew he'd mentioned it in the past but he didn't actually want to move out.

"You don't need me anymore." she said. Vince wasn't so sure. He still had bad days. He still needed her for support in the middle of the night when the nightmares returned. He didn't want to lose her altogether and he certainly didn't want to live alone. The thought terrified him. He told Kath this and she smiled at him and said;

"Well, I wonder who you could _possibly _move in with."

"What? Howard?"

"Yes. You practically live at his anyway. How much of your stuff is actually still in this house?"

"Ummm." If he was honest, his stuff was probably evenly split between the flat and the house but that didn't mean he didn't need this place to come home to, when the feelings of doubt became too strong.

"Look, I know it's still not perfect." she said sensitively.

"You can say that again." Vince mumbled. "You know I practically slapped him the other day because he went to kiss me on the cheek in public."

"Oh."

"I thought he was gonna cry, he looked so miserable."

"I'm sure he understood."

"But that's exactly it. He's so understanding. No one else would put up with all this."

"Well, maybe that's the sign that he's the one."

"Oh that's not the only sign." winked Vince and then he sighed. "I'd really love to move in with him but… what if I have a nightmare about him? I wouldn't be able to talk to him about it and that would just upset him."

"I'll always be at the other end of the telephone."

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course." Kath promised solemnly.

--

As soon as Vince mentioned moving out of Kath's, Howard was suggesting he move in with him.

"I mean it." Howard said, sloshing beer over his glass and all over the pub table in excitement. "We'll just move your stuff to mine. Hey, maybe we could look for a bigger flat? If we combine our income we could easily afford a nice, one-bedroom apartment."

"Mmm." Vince nodded, sipping his drink thoughtfully.

Howard halted., mid-mini domestic fantasy. "Or two bedroom… if you prefer."

"No, it's not that it's just…"

Howard stopped as a wave of realisation crashed over him. "You don't want to… that's fine too. It was just an idea. A stupid, mad idea. Forget I ever said anything." he gabbled.

"What?" Vince asked. He was pretty sure no one had ever U-turned so quickly before, "No! I-I do want to move in with you."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I'm just… thinking."

"About?"

"House stuff."

"Like?"

"Can I redecorate your place?"

Howard laughed. "Is that what you're worried about?"

Vince nodded. "Well yeah. I don't think I could live there if it's covered in those black water stains and stuff." He pulled a disapproving face and Howard laughed.

"You can do what you like."

"Cool." grinned Vince, sipping more beer.

"So is this it? Are you moving in?"

"Looks like it." laughed Vince as Howard's face lit up like a torch. Howard leant forward to kiss Vince, who immediately flinched away.

"Oh. Sorry." Howard said quickly as he slumped, dejected, back into his seat. "I just forget, you know."

"No. I'm sorry. It's just…" Vince looked around at the other people in the pub. "them." he whispered.

"I know." Howard said to his pint.

"I'm sorry." Vince said.

"It's okay. You'll get there." Howard smiled weakly.

"I will." Vince agreed, returning a similar smile.

* * *

**Please Review?? xx**


	14. Chapter 14

Howard was panting, he could feel the sweat sticking his shirt to his back as he heaved yet another box down Vince's stairs. He staggered out of the door pondering why all the boxes Vince was using were such an awkward shape. He couldn't see where he was going at all but an "Ooops. Watch it." told him he'd walked into the postman.

"Sorry." Howard said, swinging around so he could see the man's face.

"Are you" he peered down at the solitary letter in his hand, "Vince Noir?"

"No. He's in there." Howard nodded at the house awkwardly, "Just give him a shout."

"Right. Okay."

Howard stumbled ungraciously to the his car and tried to slide this box into the limited space next to the others. He hardly used his car because of the chaos on the city roads, so he'd only bought a little one but, as he tried to squeeze Vince's stuff, Tetris-style, onto the back seat, he began to regret his purchase. He wiped his brow and frowned to himself. Where the hell were Vince and Kath? They were _supposed_ to be helping with the moving but so far he was the only one who'd lugged anything to the car. He decided to wait for five minutes, just to see if either of them really did bring anything out to the car. They didn't. Well, he wasn't standing for that. He marched back to the house.

"Come on you lazy gits!" he said, as he found them sat on the sofa in the living room "I feel like I'm the only one doing anything." Then, noticing their sorrowful silence, he asked; "What's happened?"

"It's… it's my dad." Vince whispered, staring down at the letter ahead of him.

"Oh that dickhead." Howard growled. He could feel the red mist descend whenever he thought of that man, "What's the ungrateful bastard done now?"

"He's dead." Vince gasped and the tears were falling down his cheeks. He stood up and buried his face in Howard's shoulder.

"Oh." was all Howard could manage as he put his arms around Vince. He couldn't pretend to be upset about the vicar's death. Quite frankly, he hated the man for what he'd put Vince through and if he was honest, he was annoyed that Vince was so upset.

--

The moving had slowed in vigour but Howard was still hoisting box after box to his car. He was _not_ letting Vince's dad ruin things for him and Vince again. Vince was slumped on the sofa, reading and re-reading the letter. Most of his mum's shaky handwriting had blurred and melted from the unrelenting onslaught of tears but he knew it off by heart and words kept leaping out at him; _Dad. Dead. Heart attack. Asked for you on his deathbed. Funeral. Love it if you came. Love you. Mum._

"Howard." Vince said quietly as the older man passed through the sitting room to get some of the kitchen utensils.

"Yeah?"

"What are we doing on the 20th?"

Howard frowned and glanced at the, now crumpled, note clutched in Vince's fingers. "No way." he said angrily. "I'm not going to that bastard's funeral."

"B-but, but," Vince stammered, tears threatening to spill, "he's still my dad."

"So? He was a jerk. A twisted, corrupt human being. The world's better off without him."

"Shut up." Vince screamed, getting to his feet and squaring up to the older man. "Stop talking about him like that. He was still my dad, whatever he did."

"He wasn't a good dad to you." cried Howard. "He put you through hell, why don't you just celebrate that he's gone?"

"Because he's my dad and now he's…" Vince trailed off, tears choking him for a moment until he yelled, "Why can't you just understand?"

"Vince. I've understood. I've been patient with you, I've waited… _god knows _I have waited. I have done everything you've asked me to. I've listened. I've understood everything… but this…" He gestured wildly at Vince's current state. "I'm never going to understand this!"

"But he's-"

"Your dad? I know. You've said about a million times but that doesn't take away everything he did to you."

"But I-"

"Vince! He was a knob. I say 'Good riddance'."

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in his cheek and he saw spots dancing in front of his eyes.

"Don't speak ill of the dead." Vince whispered, before collapsing, sobbing painfully, against Howard's chest and Howard let him because he wanted to understand. He wanted to be there for Vince but it was hard when he was acting in a way that Howard simply couldn't comprehend. He held him and rubbed gentle circles into his back. He made soothing little shush noises, stroked his hair, kissed his temple. He played the supportive partner and that's why he was so surprised by what Vince said next;

"Maybe moving in together wasn't such a good idea."

"What?"

"This has opened my eyes" Vince said slowly. "If you can't understand this then… maybe we're not strong enough yet. I'm not strong enough. I don't want to lose you because we pushed it too soon."

"But…"

All Howard's reasons and excuses, all his pleads and begs fell on deaf ears. Vince's mind was set and Howard and Kath were forced to start moving all his stuff back to the house whilst he led on his bed and wept a puddle into the sheets.

Kath hardly spoke to Howard as they moved the boxes. He was moody. Annoyed at how Vince's dad could still influence his life, as though he hadn't done enough damage already. She didn't know what to say to that. She wasn't even sure what had really happened. All she knew was Howard seemed furious and Vince was torn up inside.

Vince wanted to hate his dad but he couldn't. He wanted to not care about his death but he did and he couldn't stop himself. He wanted to move in with Howard but he was terrified it wouldn't work, especially now after how Howard just behaved.

But, more than all of that, he wished he could go back to being eleven years old. He wished he could go back the days of water fights down the park. The days he and Howard had spent throwing Satsuma's at cats. The days when summers had lasted forever. The days when the only things that mattered were playing, mischief and Howard. He wished, over and over, that he could start life again. In the foetal position, on the bed, he cried until his throat was sore and his gut was tight. He cried until his eyes were puffy and red. He cried until he couldn't cry anymore and then, he fell asleep.

That's how Howard found him, an hour or so later, all cried out and curled up in a ball asleep on the white duvet with an uneasy expression on his face. Howard sat gently on the soft bed and ran a hand through Vince's sweaty hair, carefully dislodging a few strands. He sighed and pressed a kiss to his cheek breathing a tender 'I'm sorry' in his ear.


	15. Chapter 15

It was over a week before they saw each other again. Neither was sure who was supposed to call first, neither was sure if the other was still angry. Eventually, it was Vince who plucked up the courage to pick up the phone and only because Kath was stood over him like a teacher disciplining a naughty school child. They arranged to meet up at a fancy restaurant not far away, which they'd only been to once before because it was more expensive than either was used to.

Howard was nervous when he stepped through the door and asked the waiter if a Mr Noir was there yet. The waiter nodded and showed Howard to a table in a secluded alcove near the fireless fireplace. Sat with his back to the room, Vince was hunched over his hands ringing together in his lap, a sure sign he was anxious about this meeting too. It was strange. Really, this should have been just like every other date they'd been on but they'd both managed to build this up to be more important than any of the others. This was the first date after a fight, this was the time to discover if they could make it through bad patches. Not that the whole relationship so far hadn't been a bad patch.

"Hi." Howard said as casually as he could manage as he sat on the seat opposite Vince.

"Hey."

"How are you?"

"Fine. You?"

"Yeah. Fine."

"Good."

Then the waiter took their drink orders, a bottle of red and jug of water, and left. Suddenly, neither could find a thing to say. The silence stretched on and on. They were both trying to avoid eye contact, looking at anybody else in the busy dining hall. Thankfully, it was a Friday so there was plenty to distract them but they also couldn't help stealing glances at each other, like teenagers with a crush.

Eventually, the waiter returned and set down two wine glasses. He looked at Vince and then Howard and back to Vince in confusion and eventually said;

"Erm, who wants to taste?"

"You can." Vince smiled to Howard. "All wine tastes the same to me."

"Very well." said the waiter. He poured less than two mouthfuls into Howard's glass. He made a big show of taking a sip, nodded and the waiter left the bottle. Both men reached for the bottle at the same time. Their fingers brushed together and they both leapt away like they'd been jolted by an electric shock.

"Sorry" mumbled Howard.

"For what?" Vince said quickly. Their eyes met and they stared at each other for a moment.

"For… everything." Howard sighed, "I'm sorry I was mean about your dad. I should have thought about how you felt. If you have to go to the funeral, that's fine."

"Thank you." Vince smiled. "I just need closure. And I'm sorry too for slapping you and for suggesting you didn't understand me. Coz… truth is Howard, no one's ever understood me as well as you do, not even me."

Howard smiled and touched Vince's hand gently. He didn't even flinch. Just looked at their joined hands and smiled warmly at the older man. Howard smiled back.

"When's the funeral?" he asked softly.

"Tuesday."

"I'd like to come with you."

Howard saw the uncertainty in Vince's expression. He knew rejection was coming. He braced himself as Vince brought his hands to fiddle with his serviette; anything to avoid eye contact with Howard.

"I don't think that would be right, given the circumstances."

"What d'you mean?"

"Dad never wanted me to be… like this. I just think it would be a bit… disrespectful to turn up with my…" Vince faltered. They hadn't really defined what it was they were yet so he settled with; "you."

"Oh. Right." Howard said, swirling his wine around in his glass, just watching the dark liquid slosh against the sides.

"And I'm not sure I could walk into a church with you either. I still… I mean he… he believed that…" Vince stopped. He pressed his hands to the corner of his teary eyes. He was _not _going to cry.

"It's okay." Howard whispered, reaching across to cup Vince's cheek. Vince looked up at Howard. His eyes still teary, he gave a watery smile.

"You will come with me to the hotel though, won't you?"

"If you want me too, little man."

"I do."

After that, the conversation was lighter and less painful. They laughed and joked. Vince told Howard about a caller who'd rung the station and asked for a song so obscure the runner had to go out and buy it from a tiny record store called 'Hot Disks', which was well known for selling every music disk ever made. Howard told Vince about a piece he had to do on the Rubix Cube's fifteenth anniversary.

"I was brilliant at Rubix cubes" Vince said proudly.

"Really? I bet you were the kind of person you used to steam off the stickers and glue them so all the same colours were on the same sides.""Oh." Vince smiled coyly. Howard knew just a little too well sometimes. "Well… no one used to say anything."

Howard coughed a little, "Probably because they felt the _had _to let you win. Other wise you used to moan for weeks."

"I did not moan…"Howard raised an eyebrow and gave him a look, which made Vince smile sheepishly and finish with; "…much."

Afterwards, they went their separate ways with no more than a hug, which left both feeling a little uncomfortable and strange about the arrangement. Howard thought about trying to kiss Vince, just on the cheek, but he knew the younger man would only reject him in public and he couldn't take that. Not again.

* * *

"Look at that." gasped Vince, peering through the glass of the car. He'd only been awake ten minutes but he'd already pointed out about a hundred and fifty things from their childhood. They'd been in the car hours and Howard just wanted to sleep. He was absolutely exhausted. It hadn't been an easy drive, though this drive never was. There were too many twists and turns, too many speed cameras and hairpin bends and it hadn't helped that his only source of entertainment had fallen asleep only forty five minutes into the journey.

"Look at that!" Vince cried again. "D'you remember that shop? We used to buy sweets there on the way home from school."

"Oh yeah." Howard said, though he really wasn't paying any attention. He was just scrutinising the signs in the hope that one of them would show him to 'Mr and Mrs Carter's B&B'. Eventually, he found one and followed the signposts carefully until they were parked up outside the large, stone built cottage. He sighed. He was stiff from all the driving and every time he moved, his neck and back protested in agony. Maybe he should have taken a few breaks but he was too impatient to keep stopping all the time and it would have added another hour to the journey.

Howard got out of the car slowly, allowing his body to adjust to a change in position. Vince just ran on ahead to get the key and check in leaving Howard to drag in the heavy suitcases. He glanced up at the old building. They'd never ventured to this part of the village when they were kids but he was fairly sure Mrs Carter had been a member of the parish book club. He wondered if she would recognise either of them.

As it happened, there was a young woman behind the desk, who probably wouldn't have been old enough to _remember _them let alone recognise them and now Howard thought about it, he could vaguely remember the Carter's having a daughter christened, when he was about ten. He smiled politely at her. She returned it and said,

"Room number 3. It's down that corridor on your left." Howard thanked her and peered in the direction she was pointing. He could see Vince already fitting the key into the lock and beckoning to Howard to hurry up. Howard sighed, picked up the suitcases and staggered to the room.

Howard was disappointed, but not surprised, to find two single beds. Vince had booked the room after all. He dropped the cases and sat heavily on the bed, groaning about his sore muscles. He felt Vince crawl up behind him and start kneading his knuckles into Howard's neck. Howard moaned a little and allowed his head to loll forward, giving Vince better access to his aching muscles.

"You're all tense Howard." Vince said after a minute.

"That's driving for you. Be happy you never learned."

"Mm." Vince agreed but he thought it was more than that. This was stress induced tension and Howard was a bit off anyway. He could tell something was bothering Howard. Then he realised what.

"We can push the beds together." Vince murmured, kissing a bit of Howard's bare neck. "I just don't want anyone to tell my mum. It would devastate her."

Howard nodded and turned his head to kiss him properly. It was a weird angle but they managed it and Howard tried to ignore the fact his love had been hidden once again.

--

Vince was in the shower and Howard was lying on his bed, his eyelids were drooping but he couldn't sleep. He hadn't slept on a single bed since he was a child. They weren't big enough for him anymore and he always managed to wake up because he'd knocked his arm on something or because he'd nearly fallen out. He groaned and sat himself up. He was irrationally angry and he knew it wasn't about the fact he had to sleep on a single bed. It was more about the fact Vince had still booked a twin room - despite how far they'd come. And Howard, despite himself, began to wonder how much more denial he could take because, although he pretended it didn't matter and put on a brave face, the truth was every time something like this happened it was like a blow to the heart with a sledge hammer. His heart was getting fragile now and he didn't know how many more blows it could take.

--

They had pushed the beds together in the end but it still resulted in them sleeping on their separate beds because, as it turned out, it was incredibly uncomfortable to lie on the dip that appeared where the two beds met. This had meant Howard, with rejection coursing through his veins, had had to turn his back on Vince and sleep facing towards the curtains. He slept uneasily and woke at every little sound; next door's TV set, noble bin men in the car park outside, birds calling a song into the morning, Vince going to the bathroom. And that was it, he was awake. As soon as he knew Vince was up, there was no way he was going to go back to sleep. He pushed himself up and leant against the old wooden headboard. He reached across to flick on the light and looked around at the old floral decoration on the curtains and matching design on the bed covers for a moment or two before grabbing the TV remote and turning it on.

He was flicking through the three channels, when he heard the distinctive sound of retching coming from the bathroom. He quickly put the remote down and went to knock gently on the door.

"Vince." he called through the plastic. "Vince. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." the voice came back, strained and hoarse and lying.

"Vince. Don't be silly. Open the door. Talk to me. Let me in." There was no sound for a moment and then the almost noiseless click of the lock.

As soon as the door was unlocked, Howard shoved it open. Vince was knelt by the toilet, shaking fiercely, tears running down his pale cheeks.

"I… I had a nightmare." he sobbed. It sounded stupid. He sounded like a two year old who'd dreamt his sweets had been stolen or a teenager, who'd dreamt his car had been towed but Howard didn't think he was stupid. He just wrapped his arms around Vince, rubbing his back and pressed a gentle kiss into his long hair.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He could feel Vince's head shaking against him.

"Please Vince. Don't shut me out. Talk to me."

Silence for a moment, then Vince said "I was back _there_ and my dad was with me. He told me that he and God would love me as long as I repented my sins." Vince sobbed harder for a moment, unable to regain his composure but he struggled on. "The images, the pain, the reds, the blacks; it all came back and all I could hear was 'repent your sins'. He wouldn't want me there today."

"Yes, he would." Howard promised sternly.

"I can't walk into a church, into God's home, knowing what I am, what I've done."

"Vince. That's not the way it works anymore. The church is more open-minded nowadays."

"But my dad wasn't. He wouldn't have wanted… this." He gestured wildly to himself and Howard. "If he wasn't already dead, this would have killed him." He slumped back against the bath, drew his knees up to his chest and sat, head in his hands. "I can't go." he concluded tearfully.

Howard took a deep breath and looked solemnly at Vince. He was a mess, a crumpled mess. He looked like wounded puppy in need of rescuing and reassurance.

"I think you should go."

"What?" he asked, his eyes snapping up to fix on Howard's. "You were against this entire trip."

"I know but you said you needed this for closure and I agree. I think you need to go to help end things in your mind. See your mum, talk to her. Talk to as many or as few people as you want and if you need me I'll be at the hotel. Just give me a ring and I'll be there in a matter of seconds."

"Do you mean that?"

"Which bit?"

"That you'll be there, if I need you."

"I'm always there if you need me. Always have been, ever since we were born. Inseparable since birth, like metaphorical conjoined twins." he smiled, trying to lighten the mood a little. Though that is a virtually impossible task when you're sat on the hard, tiled floor of a bathroom in a pokey hotel room on the morning of your boyfriend's homophobic Dad's funeral.

Despite that, Vince gave a small smile in return and rose slowly to his feet.

"Okay." he said determinedly, looking in the mirror. "Right, get out. I need to have a shower and fix my face."

Howard smiled and rose to his feet, kissing Vince roughly on the temple as he left.

* * *

Just over half an hour later, Vince was ready, well, except for his bloody tie. He was on his third attempt at tying it now. He hadn't knotted a tie since he was in school and it wasn't helping that his hands were shaking furiously.

"Here." Howard said, gently taking the tie, when he saw Vince was on the brink of losing it. He had it tied in seconds.

"Thanks." Vince said a little embarrassedly. "So, how do I look?"

Howard took a step back and looked Vince up and down. Smart black suit, black tie, black shoes, white shirt. He looked as though he were going to a funeral but Howard chose not to say that;

"You look beautiful." he said.

"Oh Howard." Vince groaned. "I wish you wouldn't say that. I'm a man, not a princess in a fairytale book." but he still blushed happily.

"Fine. You look handsome, better?"

"Much."

"And I'm _very _proud of you and you should be too."

Vince nodded mutedly and then, taking a deep breath, forced a smile and said; "Well, wish me luck."

"Good luck and remember I'm just a phone call away."

Vince nodded again and without another word, he was gone.

--

Howard sad twiddling his thumbs anxiously. He didn't want Vince to ring especially but he did want to know what was happening. He was desperately worried that Mrs Noir may persuade Vince that being gay was wrong. He was worried he would relapse if he saw his father's coffin. He was worried about the fact Vince had to go into a church and wondered if Vince would be able to prevent himself throwing up if the emotional conflict became too frenzied. Vince hadn't eaten anything that morning for that exact reason and that worried Howard too. What if Vince just fainted because he hadn't eaten enough? Howard checked his watch. It was still over quarter of an hour before the funeral would begin. He sighed and flopped back against the pillows, dragging his hands down his face. He felt helpless.

--

After about ten minutes of worrying, there was a call on the hotel phone. Howard leapt up and grabbed the receiver.

"Vince. Are you okay? What's happened?"

"Mr Moon." the Carter's daughter's voice cut in. "You've got a phone call at reception. Would you like to take it in your room?"

"Yes please." Howard could feel his face flushing a little, embarrassed by his mistake.

"Very well."

There was a click and a crackling sound and then Vince's voice coming in short, wet gasps,

"Howard? Howard, is that you now?"

"Yeah it's me. What's happened?"

"I- I can't. I can't go in there."

"Yes you can."

"I can't. I need you to help me. Please. I need you here."

"Where are you?"

"There's a phone box, opposite the church. I'm stood in that, crying like a baby girl."

"Vince. Don't beat yourself up. I'll be there now. Okay?"

Vince nodded and then, remembering Howard couldn't see him, whispered, "Okay."

Vince leant heavily against the glass and waited. Every time anyone walked past, he lifted the receiver, pretending to be talking as he hid his face in his long hair. He didn't want to risk being recognised again like he had outside the vicarage. He'd stood outside it for ages, just looking, remembering everything that had happened in that house; good times, bad times, all the times in-between. Then a woman, who he didn't strictly recognise but thought seemed familiar had walked over.

"Vincent?" she'd asked. "I thought you were dead. It is you, isn't it? Vincent Noir?"

It had been ages since anyone had called him Vincent, not since he'd left this village over twenty years ago, so there was some truth in his answer when he'd said;

"No. I'm not him."

"You look just like him." she'd exclaimed. "He went off the rails though. Mad by the end they say. Died so young, such a nice boy. Poor Vincent."

"Yeah. Poor Vincent." Vince had echoed wistfully, before making an excuse to leave. He'd thought about calling Howard then but he'd wanted to do this alone. Then he'd seen the Sunday School Poster and had to bite back the need to call Howard again but when he'd seen the looming church and the hundreds of villagers, thronging around talking about how greatly missed Reverend Noir would be. Every last piece of resilience in Vince's body had crumbled to dust and he'd rushed to the phone box.

--

Howard was only a few minutes. Vince watched the familiar car pull up next to the phone box and Howard jumped out.

"You okay?" he asked, as Vince hugged him tight.

Vince nodded and when he pulled away he kept their hands linked. He needed the sense of comfort that touching Howard brought him.

"It just all got too much. Look at that place." He looked at the church anxiously as though it were made of pure evil. "I'm not welcome there."

"Yes you are."

"I'm not. God hates sins. And everything I do with you is a sin."

"Isn't it hate the sin, not the sinner?" Howard asked. He was sure he'd heard that before at church or Sunday school or something.

"He hates us." Vince cried dramatically.

"God loves all his children Vincent." Said a third, croaky, sob-choked voice. Vince and Howard turned around to confront it. Ahead of them was a little old woman, staring pointedly at their joined hands. She was a little wizened, short and her would-be bright blue eyes were red and bloodshot, she'd obviously been crying a lot but there was no mistaking her…

"Mum?" Vince gasped, his grip on Howard's hand tightening. Part of him was screaming at him to let go of Howard, to pretend it was an accident he was holding his hand, to tell his mum about his girlfriend, Kath, but a bigger part was screaming; 'you need Howard' and he did.

"Hi." his mum said tearfully. "And you _are_ welcome Vincent." Her eyes constantly flicking to their hands but she continued regardless of her inner feelings on the evidence ahead of her, "Your dad would have wanted you here. He loved you very much."

"He had a funny way of showing." muttered Howard bitterly.

"He was just doing what he thought was right at the time." she bit back angrily and then to Vince, she said gently, "He just didn't want you to rot in hell sweetie."

Howard winced as he felt the grip on his hand tighten. He looked at Vince. His eyes were wide. His face screwed up as though he were in absolute agony and he was shaking violently. Howard brushed his thumb over Vince's hand in a gesture he truly hoped was soothing whilst he glared at Vince's mother with hate in his eyes.

"What you put him through was worse than hell." Howard spat with venom coated distain. "The pain, the suffering. He didn't know who he was. He was self-harming, vomiting, bulimic, defecating involuntarily."

Vince looked at the floor. He wasn't embarrassed or angry. He didn't know how he felt, just sort of unfulfilled and empty but he could look at her. Not now.

"You knew all that." Howard continued, "But you didn't stop it."

"I thought it would make him better Howard!" She screamed. So she recognised him too. Of course she did. Hadn't she always dreaded the say where she'd find her son like this with this boy, well, man. She'd always known there'd never been anyone else in her son's life and she hated Howard for that. As far as she was concerned, Howard had never given her son a chance at a normal life. "I thought he was ill." she said, calmer now. "I thought that it was the only way of treating him. Cruel to be kind and all that. I know now that I was wrong."

"Hindsight's 20/20 vision." Howard snarled.

"I was told he was mentally ill." Mrs Noir said, her voice sounded as though she were trying to shout and trying not to cry at the same time. "I had no idea about the kind of things they did there. I thought it was just a school where they were treated for their illness and that was it. I knew something was wrong when he came home, but… but I was assured it was all p-part of the p-pro-process."

She began to weep into her hands and for the first time in a few minutes, Vince moved. He dropped Howard's hand and placed his arms tentatively around his mother's shaking shoulders. He held her as she wept uncontrollably in to the lapel of his jacket.

"I forgive you." he whispered in her ear, as he stepped back and grabbed Howard's hand again. He needed support for the next bit. He steeled himself and said,

"_He_ knew. Didn't he? He knew exactly what was going on when I was there."

His mum nodded tearfully. Vince's eyes filled a little and he nodded in understanding. He looked up at the church, tall, dark menacing and choked out a little whisper;

"I can't go in, Mum."

She nodded. She understood as much as she ever would. So, knowing this was probably the last time she'd ever see her son, she pulled him into a hug.

"Just know Vincent," She whispered, because she couldn't speak any louder. The emotion inside her was constricting her breath, stealing her words, "he only did it because he loved you. He really thought he was doing the right thing."

"I know." Vince whispered in the same tone "And I forgive him too."

* * *

**There is one more chapter to go guys! =O. Can't believe it's nearly all over!**

**You've all been SO generous with your reviews so far... could i perhaps beg for a couple more?? lol.  
Seriously though, thanks for reading!!  
Luv to you all!  
xx**


	16. Chapter 16

They went back to the hotel after seeing Vince's mum. Vince didn't cry. He just sat on the bed in silence. He hardly said a word for three days, just one word answers and shrugs of the shoulder. Howard tried to get him to talk. The silence was scaring him. He was worried that coming back to the village hadn't helped Vince at all, if anything he seemed to have become worse. He'd felt really bad when he said he wanted to visit his own parents on the second day.

"Do you want to come?"

"No thanks." He'd said emotionlessly.

"Right. Okay." Howard had sighed, picking up his jacket. He'd given Vince one last hopeful look and gone. It had been alright at his parents. He'd told him about Vince and they'd been surprisingly understanding.

"Vince Noir?" his mother had smiled, "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. How is he?"

"Yeah, he's holding up alright."

"He must be devastated he's lost his father."

"Yeah." Howard sighed, taking a sip of his tea to hide his true feelings. He couldn't tell his mother, the worlds biggest gossip, about what had happened to Vince.

When Howard got back to the hotel, Vince was in the shower. Howard led on the makeshift double bed and waited. Vince stepped out of the shower, wrapping a soft white towel around his torso as the steam enveloped him. He wiped the mirror clear and looked at himself carefully. He still felt the weight still firmly on his shoulder and weighting down his heart. He wondered if it would ever lift, if he'd ever feel he had closure from this.

He stepped out of the bathroom.

"Hello."

Vince jumped out of his skin. His hands shot to his chest. He could feel his heart racing.

"Oh my god!" whispered Vince. "I think I almost died."

Howard chuckled and tapped the bed next to him. Vince smiled and crawled next to Howard and rested his head on the older man's chest. Howard could feel the dampness of Vince's hair seeping through his shirt. He pressed a kiss into the messy black mop and they sat their in silence for a while.

"Howard." Vince whispered after a moment. "I'd really like to visit my dad's grave."

Howard nodded, "Okay." he agreed.

They walked. It wasn't too far and walking had taken them past the flower shop. When they reached the cemetery, Vince turned to Howard he said he wanted to it alone. Howard agreed and said he'd wait by the entrance to the cemetery. He watched Vince carefully as he stepped along the path to the freshest grave and knelt down, resting the flowers by the gravestone.

"Hi Dad." he said, feeling a little stupid at speaking to nothing but also feeling he needed to get this off his chest. "So, umm, I'm a DJ at a local radio station in London. They like my bubbly personality." He laughed a little, although nothing was funny, "I get to play all sorts of music; R&B, reggae, Rolling Stones sometimes. I even try and throw in a bit of Gary Numan. The producers always stop it getting aired though. They're boring. London's been really kind to me. I know you thought they'd chew me up and spit me out because I was a simple village boy but… they accept me there. I fit in. I never really fitted in around here but… you knew that." he smiled a bit, took a deep breath and said, "I'm dating Howard." The earth didn't shake. He wasn't struck down by lightening. He looked over to Howard, nope he was still alive too. It was already going better than he'd expected. "I know it's not what you wanted for me but… no one can change who they are. I tried dad." Tears fell down his face, "I really tried to change, for you. But I couldn't stop the way I felt about him." he sighed and picked at the leaves of his bouquet. "All I wanted was for you to be proud of me. Not ashamed. I guess… I guess I never managed that but… I know that you just wanted me to be happy and safe. So I want you to know, I am happy. Really happy, and safe. Always will be." he smiled tearfully. "And I do love you Dad and although you'd never ask for it, I forgive you for what you did to me."

He heard footsteps crunching the grass behind him and a hand squeezed his shoulder. Vince got to his feet in silence and slipped his hand into Howard's, using his other to dry his face.

"Bye dad." he whispered and they began to walk away.

As they walked solemnly, hand in hand, through the streets of their boyhood village, Howard and Vince heard the insistent, whispered beginnings of another twenty years worth of gossip and rumours but neither cared. They wouldn't be here tomorrow or the next day or ever again. The villagers could gossip all they wanted. They passed the vicarage, which had lots of burly men taking boxes from a removal van into the beautiful old house.

There was an attractive woman stood near the van. Her sleeves rolled up and her dark hair scraped back as she looked up at the vicarage. She smiled at Vince and Howard when they got closer.

"Afternoon." she smiled cheerfully.

Howard nodded his head politely and Vince smiled a soft, "Hi."

"This vicarage is beautiful, isn't it?" she sighed. "Though you'd know that, you live in the village."

"I used to live in the house."

"Oh." smiled the woman. "Are you the vicar's boy?" Vince nodded. "Pleased to meet you. Vince, isn't it?" She held out her hand.

"Yeah." He took it and they shook.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks."

"I'm Jane Green, by the way." She shook Howard's hand. "The new vicar."

"I didn't know they had women vicars." Vince said, sounding mildly impressed.

"Yes, it started about two or three years ago though we're still facing some prejudice."

"We'd know all about that." Howard said bitterly.

Jane's eyes flicked to their joined hands.

"Well, some people just don't see things the way God intended them to be seen."

Vince frowned.

"In my opinion," Jane explained, "If God makes everyone, then everyone is created to perfection. God doesn't make mistakes. All love is sacred, even that between a man and a man or a woman and a woman. We are all equal in the eyes of the Lord." Vince nodded slowly and squeezed Howard's hand, smiling up at him. "So," Jane continued brightly, "Will I be seeing you at church on Sunday?"

"We live in London." Vince explained, "We only came here for the funeral."

"Oh I see. So all that preaching was for nothing then." she smiled in mock annoyance.

"It made me feel better." Vince said. "Really. Thank you so much." Then he hugged her. She made a weird 'oof' noise when he grabbed her but she hugged back and said;

"You're quite welcome Vince. I just hope the next time I see you both it isn't because of a funeral. Maybe a wedding." she grinned at them, raising her eyebrows.

"Same sex marriage? That will never be allowed." Vince laughed.

"Ah, you never know Vince. Keep the faith. Give it ten years, maybe fifteen. Things are changing, you never know what could happen."

Vince and Howard said their goodbyes. As they walked away Vince began to think about what the vicar had said. He didn't hold out much hope for the kind of change she was talking about. He was only thirty six but he thought if he lived to see a gay marriage it'd be a miracle. It just seemed too unreal, too far away from the things he'd seen when he was just a boy. He squeezed Howard's hand tight, to reassure himself more than anything, and rested his head on his shoulder. He doubted anything could go from being treated as a mental illness to being treated as equal in someone's lifetime but he could hope.

He could see himself marrying Howard. He'd get those totally genius white boots he'd seen in Carnaby Street not long ago and that belt he'd seen in Topshop. He'd look like a genius. He could just imagine Howard, dressed in a smart suit. He shook himself quickly free from his daydream. It could never happen.

"What are you grinning about little man?" Howard asked fondly.

"Nothing. Just, how perfect all of this is."

Howard thought about everything and felt it was far from perfect. The younger man hadn't had the best of lives but here he was happy about something that no one else, not even Howard, could see.

"How perfect all of _what_ is?"

"This. Us. Me and you." he smiled, bringing their joined hands up so he could kiss Howard's hand. "I'd forgotten how good being with you in this village felt."

_You were made to forget._ Howard's brain supplied but Howard ignored it and smiled. "I know what you mean little man. Stood here now, with you; feels like home."

Vince nodded. "But I think it's more just being with you that feels like home. Not this place. We are still moving in together, aren't we?"

"I didn't think you wanted…"

"No. I do. I was just upset and angry. I know I'm far from perfect and I've got a lot of baggage but… when I'm with you it all melts away. Nothing else matters. It's just me and you and that's it. I just want to be with you always. Be there when you wake up, when you're happy, when you're scared. I want to sit down with you in the evening and watch TV until the white dot tells us to go to bed."

"That doesn't happen anymore Vince."

"Okay, well until late. I just want to go to bed and feel you next to me. And I'm terrified that you will never understand how much you mean to me." he whispered that last bit.

"I understand." Howard promised. "I love you too."

Vince stood, stunned for a second. He hadn't heard Howard say that before. He'd guessed as much but now it was official. Then Vince did something completely unexpected. He reached up and kissed Howard in full view of anyone who wanted to see. The older man almost gasped in surprise but Vince just took his opportunity to slip his clever little tongue between his parted lips. Howard almost laughed. He was so proud and so happy and so content with everything and, most importantly, Vince was returning to him. Vince was happy too, chuckling lightly as he pulled away, smiling up at the man he loved and running gentle fingers through his wispy hair.

After all that time, he had closure...

* * *

**So there it is… the end! Woo hoo!!**

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